Ludo Mentis Aciem
by CassiopeiaxBlack
Summary: September 1998, little Kate Whisper is beginning her first year at Hogwarts, determined to discover a world she couldn't enjoy during the Dark Lord's tyranny, locked up in a cellar in order to escape the Death Eaters. But her utopia ends from the moment she puts the Sorting Hat on her head. Because it sends her in a fifth house...
1. A fluttering of wings

**About the story** **:** Using Rowling's world in continuity with the seventh book is something the author never, or few, saw on the internet in comparison of all the Dramiones and Marauder's fanfictions. Before being a story about a boy who lived, about an epic battle between light and darkness, Harry Potter was for her a whole new world stocked with fantastic creatures and a thousand dreams that fed her imagination. She lost all of that when Harry Potter ended. So she wanted to recapture Rowling's world where she left it, and stick along to the canon (because each detail is important!) integrating her own characters into the story at the dawn of a new school year at Hogwarts and following them during their seven years there.

Plot twists, childish dreams, fights and thirsts for revenge, new characters and colourful teachers, references to former ones, spells, creatures and surprising magical items, don't think anymore: take the Hogwarts Express with Kate!

Ludo Mentis Aciem is a sentence from Carmina Burana's songs and can be translated by "As the game take over reason". Because what Kate thinks being just an innocent game, which is having a new imaginary house, will expand in an inconceivable way...

This "saga" will be cut in seven parts, each containing 10 chapters, more or less (a lot of those parts will be titled by Carmina Burana's songs, a work the author particularly cherishes)

Part 1/7 : Mane tribulationis - the beginning of troubles (completed) - chapters 1-10

Part 2/7 : Statim vivus fierem - I will be soon alive (completed) - chapters 11-22

Part 3/7 : Multa sunt sispiria - many are my sighs (completed) - chapters 23-41

Part 4/7 : Sicut splendor fulguris - as a flash of lightening (completed) - chapters 42-60

Part 5/7 : Miqui quoque niteris - you're tormenting me too (in progress) - chapters 61-?

Part 6/7 : Mecum omnes plangite - cry with me

Part 7/7 : Canticum Nympharum - the song of nymphs

 **This is a translation of the french version of Ludo Mentis Aciem by Ielenna (you can find her here and on hpfanfiction). The work doesn't belong to me, I only translated it.**

Enjoy !

* * *

1\. A fluttering of wings.

In our gigantic world, few suspect, or few want to believe, that the smallest being could generate the biggest upheaval. The origins of cataclysms have their source in the little stone that starts the avalanche, or the match that ravages the forest with a devastating fire. An exponential action the disbelievers refuse to admit in order to rest their ascendancy, their very own, and this, in spite of that so famous chaos theory inferred by the butterfly effect. This phenomenon makes the assumption that the innocent flap of a butterfly's wings could lift a hurricane on the other side of the world.

A butterfly? That ridiculously ephemerid insect? Too beautiful to even survive for two weeks in the wild? While on Earth, men nearly kill themselves to mark their territory, to testify their existence, whether they do it by means of insane madnesses or grand gestures. Unsuccessfully, even though they had dedicated their entire lives to it. All defeated. All by a common butterfly. Fortunately the human race can survive humiliation; otherwise, the specie would have extinct long ago.  
And this little butterfly, casually landed on her forefinger, could it start a storm that could capsize the heaviest of all boats too? Kate was fascinated by that thought, while examining the pearly porous wings of the insect, whose twisted horn was brushing against her nail. Her mother's voice, resounding behind the door, hijacked her from her pondering.

'Kate! Your father's back!'  
'Really?!'

That sentence, which was more to herself than to her mother, caused the explosion of the fake butterfly into a thousand of translucent sparkles. Eleven year old little Kate jumped up on her feet, leaving bed, and rushed towards the window, pulling the dirty, outmoded lace curtain. A beaming smile, underlining her disharmonised teeth, took shape on her face as she saw the old black car, parking in front of the house of 45 Owlstone Road. The number 5 had fallen a while ago though, causing to the owners loads of mails errors. Kate lashed out of her room and went down the stairs at maximum speed, landing in a controlled turning by leaning on the wooden ball at the end of the rail. Her father may have left just this morning, this evening was special. It was her evening. She had been waiting for it for too long. Even though all hope seemed to have been devoured by the darkness of the cellar in which she had hidden for months, she still gave herself the strength to resist. By dreaming of this evening.  
Her father was taking off his leather jacket in the hallway when Kate joined him. He was a tall man with a strong stature. On his face, a youth that seemed to linger, enforced by the teasing expression he was always displaying. And when this expression fade away, a statuesque face, in every way disturbing, takes place. Kate had already seen it in a few occasions. But she chased away this memory far in her mind. It was bygone days from now on.

'Dad! she yelled', soaring to him.  
'Hey, my little pumpkin!'

When she casted herself into his arms, he absorbed the shock in a hiccup.

'You're too heavy for me to carry you now, kiddo!'  
'What are you insinuating, dad? That I'm fat?'  
'Seems like I'm hearing your mother talking!'

But the truth was that Kate was too much like her father, Phil. The incontrovertible proves were those so unique grey eyes they shared. Like a steel with a greenish brightness.

'I heard…!'

They both turned towards Grace, the mother, with her long brown hair, slightly in mess, her piercing black eyes and her wide smile between her fleshy lips. She crossed her arms on her chest and rested her head on the sharp edge of the dirty windowpanes glass door separating the hallway to the living-room.

'Definitely ears too sharp, those Muggles!' laughed Phil, bending towards his daughter.  
'And wizards really act in bad faith', answered Grace back. 'Especially when it's about promises, isn't it, darling?'

Seeing the sceptical expression on her husband's face, she stepped away from the access opening, revealing the lounge flooded under the wretched paper, giving a glimpse of empty beer cans lying on the floor and cigarette butts dying near the ashtray. It took Phil a few attempts to make a complete sentence:

'Oh yeah, I promised you I'd tidy up.'

He took out his wand of his pocket and waved it under Kate's stunned look. She would never get tired of that…

' _Scourgify!_ '

Straight after, papers seemed to take life and piled up, one after another. The ashtray levitated and made several tours on itself, before it reached the kitchen, as if it was a flying saucer, followed by the empty cans which ended their way in the trash can. In the blink of an eye, the living-room was cleaned, tables shining and air renewed. But the old wallpaper stayed unchanged, in its sad, greyish tint.

'Feels so good not to have to use a vacuum cleaner again!' sighed Grace before kissing her husband.

Kate blinked several times, staring at the scene. She felt warmth springing from her heart and spreading in every part of her body. Was it that happiness she prayed for so long? She wanted to imprint in her memory the image of her parents, hugging in that new house, which certainly deserved serious renovations.

'I couldn't agree more! Plus, your Muggle engine makes such a dreadful noise. Like you locked a dragon up in there!'

But the impatience of the little girl took over:

'Dad, dad! Are we going?'  
'You're ready?' he wondered, observing her from the bottom to the top. 'List? Bag?'

Immediately, Kate scurried upstairs at maximum speed. Her heart was racing. She grabbed a folded parchment on her night table, threw her soiled mauve backpack on her shoulders – backpack she, beforehand and with the greatest care, prepared on the night before – and came back down. As soon arrived, he left: Phil put back on his jacket he took off two minutes ago. Kate held a grudge against herself for a moment for not letting her parents enjoy a little time together, but today was her day. She took the lead by opening the heavy door and ran from the stoop to the street, holding the suspenders of her backpack which was hitting her back with each step she took. She almost stumbled twice but her father caught hold of her.

'Hey, hey, hey. What an ungrateful daughter who doesn't kiss goodbye to her mom!'

Of course, he was joking. Immediately, Kate apologized profusely and scampered along to the door. She kissed her mother who held her in her arms, before returning straight back to the pavement. She watched the end of Owlstone Road, as if something would suddenly appear. But the sound of her dad's car door made her turn back.

'We're going by car?' she protested. 'B-but… I wanted to take the Knight bus!'  
'Sorry, sweet pea, we don't have a choice.'

Phil waited for his daughter to enter the car and fasten her seatbelt to clear things up:

'The former controller was a Death Eater, and for now, I don't wanna take any risk. Better stay careful.'  
'I thought it was over!' she complained while her father started the car whose old engine painfully hummed.  
'You-Know-Who might be dead; some of his believers are still free… We don't know what they're up to. We're not their priority targets anymore, but we better stay on our guards.'

Disappointed, Kate settled in her seat, her head into her shoulders and pressing her bag against her chest.

'I've thought that now Harry Potter had killed him, everything would have become… "normal"?'  
'It's been only two months, pumpkin! Don't worry… I'm sure that, by the end of the year, each and every Death Eater will be in Azkaban. I promise.'

Oh, her father's promises. Better not count on them. Even though he was saying that to comfort her.

Kate waited for the end of the second Deep Purple's song – a Muggle band her father really liked – and for the car to rattle out of the little city of Carlton, to take an interest in her father's day:

'What did you deal with, today?'  
'A Boggart. Nothing very original!' he shrugged.

Phil wasn't exercising the most common of jobs in the magical world. He was a Tracker[1]. Hearing this trivial name, any Muggle would expect to see someone hunting beasts and sticking their heads on his wall. But in the magical world, being a Tracker was a risky job few would dare to do. First of all, it takes an almost perfect knowledge of Muggles, their rites, their objects and fit in their everyday lives. And secondly, you must show extreme discretion. Most of the time, Trackers intervened after odd calls from Muggles, describing paranormal activities, or after the track down of a creature that escaped the wizarding world. It resulted in doors openings, talking toys, creaking boards, or even, in the worst cases, a confrontation between Muggles and the reality of magic. Which Trackers had to avoid at any cost every time they were sent to the field. After that, they called the state employees of the Ministry, the Obliviators, in charge of erasing these poor people's memories of the last events they faced. That could covers anything from the little Puffskein in the chimney to the troll in the garden.  
But the Ministry also used Trackers when it came to get rid of a harmful creature that caused losses to Muggles. And between those who were playing at being wizards around a black magic Ouija and vengeful spirits, that kind of case was common practice.

'Was it fun?' asked Kate, curiously.  
'Not as fun as the Santa Claus case, but that poor Muggle was surrounded by dolls! People have weird fears.'

The Santa Claus' anecdote was regularly pulled out at the Whisper's table and it was a story they shared with great pleasure. A boggart had attack a student and appeared to her as Santa Claus, in every point similar to the disguised chaps in supermarkets during the season of Advent. The young lady had locked herself up in her kitchen's closet, threatening him with pans, before the Trackers came.

'You didn't tell the shape the boggart takes when you face it!' complained the little girl.  
'Your angry mother! Very mad! Red eyes, beating veins, tight fists… Brrr!'  
'No, seriously', Kate laughed, bumping her head against the seat, the headrest being still too high for her.  
'That's personal, pumpkin!' he smiled, pressing his finger against her cheek.

Kate sank into a profound meditation while snuggling her mouth against her backpack. What will she see, the time she'll face a boggart? Perhaps her cellar's door and the terror that tied her depths each time that old, flaking, metallic handle turned. She hid her face completely, trying to chase away her dark thoughts.

* * *

It took them three hours to arrive at the Charing Cross Road car park, in London. Night was barely falling and Kate wiped her mouth from the last bits of the cake she devoured with the back of her sleeve, while contemplating the buildings of the English capital. Her last memories of London were so far away, nothing seemed familiar to her. Everything was fascinating. A smile spread across her father's face when he saw in the distance, the hung rusty sign swinging in the wind. The pub looked tiny and seedy. Its windows were so dirty it was impossible to see inside.

'The Leaky Cauldron', he sighed, nearly touched, a smile stretching in the corner of his lips. 'Man, it's been so long I didn't come…'

He went beyond his disappointment when he discovered, as he opened the door, an almost deserted main room. The inn had closed an entire year and was only just reopening. While some regular customers were savouring their drinks at the bar, a young woman, from behind and crouched, was busy repairing some table legs with her wand. A lot of furniture suffered damages after fights and Muggle-born arrests under the Dark Lord's supporter's regime.

The young lady got up and turned towards them when she heard the front door's bell ringing, announcing the Whisper's entry. She was barely twenty, Kate noticed. She wasn't the prettiest of the witches, even though her expression was very pleasant. She had a stretched face, not very feminine, a chalky complexion with long blonde hair pulled back and a lacking of sparkle gaze.

'Good evening sir, miss', she welcomed them with a slightly scratchy voice.

She addressed an individual smile to Kate.

'How may I help you?'  
'We'd like to book a room', declared Phil with his appealing look – he had, in his youth, a serious reputation of a seducer, and for good reason, his crafty smile and steel eyes bewitched a lot of girls.  
'Yes, of course!'

Scampering along behind the counter, the young manageress grabbed a key and went to the creaking, unsafe staircase.

'Follow me, please!'  
'Tom's not working here anymore?' asked Phil, following her in the corridor after Kate had made a study of the place.  
'Oh no!' she sighed while inserting the heavy copper key in the keyhole of room 109. 'He retired when the pub closed last year. I took over when I got out of Hogwarts; I loved the place too much to leave it there like that.'  
'How brave of you!'  
'Somebody had to do it.'

When she opened the door, she let them a few seconds to discover their room. It was still choking with dust, but the sheets on the big bed had been recently replaced. Above it, an old lady's portrait, wearing a crimson puffed dress with sleeves embroidered with lace, diverted her look from her reading and lowered her glasses to observe the newcomers.

'You're here to buy your school supplies?' asked the maid to Kate with a friendly voice, in the frame of the door.  
'Y-yes', she stammered.  
'First year, I suppose.'

Kate fervently nodded.

'You'll see', she tried to comfort her. 'You'll have the best years of your life at Hogwarts. Furthermore, from this year forth, you'll have very selected professors… What's your name?'  
'Katelyna', she mumbled while pulling on the straps of her bag to hide her anxiety. 'Katelyna Whisper.'  
'Nice to meet you, Katelyna. I'm Hannah. Hannah Abott.'

Then, she spoke to Kate's father, before returning downstairs:

'Meal will certainly be ready in half an hour. Take your time to install.'

After the delightful mutton stew Hannah had made, father and daughter were discussing around a drink, at one of the centre tables of the Leaky Cauldron. There was no need to isolate themselves: a quiet customer was stooped over the bar and three doubtful witches giggled further, at the round table near the window.

'Nothing's like a Butterbeer', rejoiced Phil while putting his pint back on the table.  
'I would have bet you'd order a Firewhisky', ragged Kate. 'Are you sick, dad?'  
'You know, sometimes the best things in life are the simplest, not the booziest! If only Muggles could market the Three Broomstick's Butterbeer, they would make a hell of money…!'  
'Can I taste?'  
'Hell no!'  
'Please', she falsely begged, insisting on vowels.  
'Go back to your pumpkin juice, child!' he chuckled, taunting her by drinking another sip of his Butterbeer. 'We'll talk about this when you get older!'

Kate pretended to sulk a moment. But she had enjoyed so little moments with her dad about magic that she couldn't let herself retreat into a childish silence tonight.

'Dad?'  
'Hmm?'

He rolled his lips inside his mouth to lick discreetly the Butterbeer's drops that overflowed.

'If the Sorting Hat sends me to Gryffindor… will you be mad at me?'  
'Mad at you?' he repeated, retaining a laugh. 'Why would I be?'  
'It's well known. That Slytherins don't like Gryffindors, and vice versa!'  
'And you think a Slytherin dad should be mad at his daughter because a patched piece of fabric sent her in the opposite house?'

He fixed his gaze in Kate's and tried to sound convincing.

'Whatever the house you're sent in, I'll be proud of you.'

Kate's cheeks flushed and she plunged in her pumpkin juice to hide it, almost spilling it. That was close.

'And… if I end up in Slytherin… do you think I'll be in trouble?'  
'About me and the Death Eaters?'

Kate slowly nodded, embarrassed by the subject she raised. Phil sighed and slid his finger along the chipped edge of the pint.

'You know sweet pea… Being in Slytherin doesn't mean you're destined to be evil. Slytherins are known to go through their ideas; they're determined to accomplish their designs. Some think that they will reach it by doing bad things. You, better than no one, knows you can't judge someone on his house…'

His father was, indeed, a very good example. Many were those who tried to rally him to the Death Eaters' cause, even when he was still in Hogwarts. But Phil resisted, against all odds.

'Prejudices don't know everything. Look, I may be a Pure-Blood Slytherin, and yet, I married your mother and I now live in full-immersion with Muggles, which caused us a few troubles…'

He had said those last bitter words in low voice, letting them fade away in his amber drink.

'But… all this would have never happened if it wasn't for aunt Charity…' squealed Kate.  
'Indeed… Indeed…'

Charity Burbage[2], Whisper from her maiden name, was Phil's big sister. Nut on the Muggles' way of life since the beginning of her studies at Hogwarts, Hufflepuff student, she became the Muggle Studies teacher for years there, until the Death Eaters tracked her down, when the Dark Lord came back to life. Charity was kidnapped at her house, her husband, a Muggle, died and her son, Eliot, lost consciousness under the spells he's been inflicted, left for dead in his room. Her disappearance long hit the headlines, but reality was way crueler: tortured as an example, Voldemort ended her in front of witnesses. No one ever found her body… The death of his sister threw Phil into the meanderings of his darkest emotions, while he was next on the Death Eaters' list.

'But I regret nothing!' he pinched.

Kate lifted her gaze and stared at him a long time. Much to her relief, he wasn't displaying that expressionless look that made her so nervous, but bore a slight smile.

'If Charity didn't inculcate her passion for Muggles into me, I would probably never have done the job I'm doing, I would have never met your mother and I would have never had this adorable little witch as a daughter. And this, no witch, brilliant, famous and beautiful though she be, could have offered me that… It's Muggle magic.'

Then, he finished his declaration on a more personal note:

'And I would never have discovered Muggle rock! What a waste it would have been…'

Kate laughed out loud remembering her father singing Blue ÖysterCult or Led Zeppelin at the top of his lungs when driving his old Muggle car. Yes, he would never have lived happily another way.

When they went back up to go to sleep, Phil stayed up a while at the window whereas his daughter had fallen asleep in the big bed. But when he noticed Kate was moaning in her sleep, big tears falling down her face, he laid down next to her and hugged her tightly before pressing a long kiss on her burning forehead. She calmed down straight away and her nightmares of the cellar turned into dreams about Hogwarts…

* * *

'Daddy, daddy! Wake up, it's daylight!'

Kate's moderated shouts forced Phil to open an eye.

'Let your old man exercise his duty in peace, will you?' he muttered, closing his eyes back and taking refuge under the cover.  
'But it's daylight!' she took offense, running towards the window in creaky sounds of footsteps.

Forced to wake up a minute, Phil searched gropingly on his bedside table for his wand. With a wave of his wrist, he compelled under his lethargic eyes, a silvery rope that told him the time.

'Merlin's sake, Kate', he grumbled, 'it's not even eight!'  
'But it's daylight', she repeated, insistently.  
'Then go take your breakfast downstairs. For now, let daddy kip!'

His last words were muffled by his pillow, but Kate ignored them. All dressed up for a while now, she rushed to the corridor and went down like a whirlwind. Hannah, whose skilful wand was leading the mops, gave her a scolding look.

'I have still sleeping customers, girl!'  
'Sorry', she flushed, softening her footsteps.

Hannah smiled while walking towards the bar.

'Sit', she invited Kate, patting on a high chair. 'What do you want to eat? I've got bacon eggs, toasts, pudding and maybe a ladle of beans.'

Kate's eyes lit up; it's been a long time since she hadn't got such a heavy meal. Nevertheless, she held herself back:

'Not sure that my dad would accept to pay more for…'  
'It's okay, it's on the house. I don't put a new student up every day. I put you a little of everything.'

For someone used to frugal meals, this breakfast was a real feast. And the fresh pumpkin juice was a delight.

'You'll see, in Hogwarts, house elves are true cordons bleus! You'll never starve!'  
'Really?!'

Hannah nodded, watching the little girl literally devouring her plate, while keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet where wizards on pictures were moving.

'Nothing new', she sighed. 'Another interview of a Hogwarts' combatant, a Death Eater's trial, a hysterical witch who found gnomes in her artichokes garden, the Chudley Cannons won a match again for this season. Do you watch Quidditch Kate?'  
'No, not really, I… I do not have the opportunity.'  
'But your father's a wizard. You don't support any team?'  
'Maybe he does, but…'

How could she explain that she spent her last year, locked up in a cellar, in fear of being discovered and tortured by the Death Eaters? Survival and worrying about her dad who was risking his life to keep them safe and supply them with food was way beyond all those preoccupations.

Hannah understood Kate wouldn't finish her sentence, so she went back to her reading of the newspaper.

Phil went downstairs an hour later. Hurried by his daughter's impatience, he had to empty his coffee cup in two sips before leading her to the Leaky Cauldron's courtyard where barrels and empty bottles were stored. In front of them was a tall brick wall. Kate kept stamping. She knew what was behind. Phil pulled out his wand and tapped some bricks, in a very specific order, with it. Immediately, the wall moved and the bricks slid to open a passageway. Diagon Alley.

At this hour in the morning, few wizards were walking down the shopping street, but Kate's eyes were sparkling by seeing their exuberance. Their dark robes, or slightly coloured, their sometimes colourful hats. Some of them wore, as a clip for their capes, a little crystal stag's head that belled when you were staring at it for too long. A tribute to Harry Potter, the chosen one, who saved them all. Kate, amazed by all the shop windows, was running everywhere, her purple backpack bumping on her back. She felt alive again in this world that was hers.  
First step was Gringotts. Under his job's conditions, Phil rarely carried wizard money with him. When they entered the white building, with its golden gates as impressive as a dragon, Kate hesitated between laughing out loud at goblins' gross faces or looking down because of their unfriendly, suspicious looks. As Phil already said to her, Gringotts circuits were as sensational as Muggle roller coasters, and father and daughter had a heyday, to the great displeasure of the goblin that was coming with them to the family vault, number 592. Phil went in alone while Kate was waiting inside the carriage. She suspected her father didn't want her to know the real financial situation of her family, which was already quite enough precarious. If only they had found her aunt Charity's body, they would have inherited her money. And according to the Minister's laws, in case of disappearance, an inheritance awaits for five years. There was no doubt aunt Charity was dead, everybody knew that, and yet, Kate's father never perceived his sister's money in accordance to the laws.

They went up the street, stopping in every shop the list told them to go. Starting by Madam Malkin's, the dressmaker, a chubby, smiling little witch, all dressed up in mauve. In spite of the early hour, some clients were wandering around, especially students and their parents, whether they're already at Hogwarts or not. Kate scanned the faces, trying to memorize them. Those kids might be her future roommates. There was this girl, with dark skin, who was strutting about in her new dress. But she seemed too old to be a first year. There was the little good girl, with a pink ribbon holding her blond curls, whose mum and dad were caring about every small detail. And also this poor boy with blond hair, his frameless glasses falling down his aquiline nose, who was extricating himself as best as he could in his robe, too big for him while his dad was talking with some witch he knew, without paying attention to his son's struggling.

Kate, ecstatic, swirled a few times in front of the mirror, wearing her future witch robe. She stroked the tissue where she would, in a few days, sew her house badge on. Sold: three robes, a basic hat, a winter cape and Common Welsh Green dragon gloves, for lack of a purple scaled dragon, her favourite colour.  
They both established a break at Florean Fortescue's, the Diagon Alley's ice-cream parlour. While Phil chose Chocolate Frog, peanut butter and honey mead flavours, Kate found her happiness in gingerbread and blue barley sugar flavours. At the top of the ice-creams scoops, the seller put a miniature dragon which was puffing sparkles on them to make their surface creamy. Just the time of a daydream in front of the Quality Quidditch Supplies store.

At Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, they bought phials, a telescope and a copper scales. With a nudge, Kate's blunder took over a box of pipes, grabbed just in time, inches from the floor, by Phil's spell. With a clumsy girl like her, leaving her arms and legs around without noticing, he learnt to be on his guard.

'Well, I don't know that shop', admitted Phil who didn't step a foot here for four years, in front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

And even though no supply of this shop was on the list, Phil entered, followed closely by his daughter whose euphoria was shared. The inside was rainbow-coloured, animated puppets, bobbing up and down the displays, were giving out samples to customers or blowing pink bubbles whose inside were spluttering. This summer, the shop was promoting its new creation: the Looz-nooz[3]. The slogan on the posters, on which a young man was seen losing his nose like if it was a fading petal, was deliberately provocative following the recent events that soiled the wizarding world. "Death Eaters are fans that gone wrong. Be like Voldemort, lose your nose!". Finding his child's soul back, Phil granted himself the purchase of some Canary Creams, Nosebleed Nougats and Headless Hats to Verity, the young witch who managed the shop. Someway, Kate couldn't help herself from pitying her mother, who would have to stand her father's magical jokes once more.

'Here, seven Galleons', said Phil, sticking the seven golden coins in Kate's little hand when they went out of the shop. 'I'm going to buy your books while you go to Ollivanders.'  
'What? You don't wanna come with me?' she squealed with a hint of disappointment in her voice.  
'Purchase of a wand is a very intimate moment. It's better for you to do it alone. I'll catch you up in front of the shop.'

After rubbing his daughter's head with a friendly hand and a wink, he walked the opposite way to Flourish and Blotts, hands in his pockets. This time, apprehension took place over joy in Kate's mind. Left on her own, she walked towards the wand maker's shop in small, furtive steps. The sign had been damaged during the break-in last year. Today was only visible: _Ollivanders, wand mak... B.C._

Kate pushed the door with fear and immediately fixed the old stunted man tidying up boxes scattered on the floor, without using magic. He lifted his dazed look on her, which filled with satisfaction instantly.

'What is it I see? A young girl preparing the start of her school year at Hogwarts?'  
'Are you sir Ollivander?' stammered Kate, slowly coming up.  
'Himself.'

As she was about to tell the reasons of her presence, she realized it was stupid. It was pretty obvious she was here to buy a wand and not a bunch of radish or the newest Remembrall which effects were coupled with a Howler by the Maginventors. Fortunately, before she even said a word, Ollivander was lending her a wand in its black box.

'Why not start by this one?'

With all the delicacy she could show, Kate grabbed the object. Her whole body immediately shivered and the box disintegrated in Ollivander's hand.

'Hum… I don't think this one suited.'

And while Kate was disappointingly putting the wand back and the old man was climbing the shelves searching for the perfect one, he started to get interested in her:

'What is your name, young girl?'  
'Katelyna Whisper.'  
'Ah, the Whisper daughter! Yes, yes… I remember your father. And his sister. If I'm right, he still has his chestnut wand, twelve inches, dragon heartstring?'  
'I think so!'  
'It only took two tries to find his ideal wand. I hope it will be the same for you.'

He then proposed her a second wand. This time, Kate let it slip through her fingers and, when crashing on the floor, the wand drilled it and left a huge hole and a pungent smell of burnt wood. Loads of tries remained vain and ended by disastrous failures. She also set the poor Ollivander's last hair in fire, who assured she wasn't the first to make a blunder.

'I didn't think I would come to this point', he sighed, taking a box on an isolated shelf. 'Try this one. It's here for fifty years; maybe you'd take it with you.'

It was a beautiful wand, a bit small but worked with delicacy.

'Good, I'll try.'

Praying for good luck, Kate grabbed the wand and lifted it over her head in a loose movement of her arm.

Outside, Phil was waiting while looking at passers-by, leaning against the storefront of the shop in front of Ollivanders', Kate's books casually stuck under his arm. He didn't suspect it would take such time. When suddenly, a deafening bang echoed strongly and the warm blow of the deflagration ruffled his hair; the explosion of the wand maker's windows resounded in all Diagon Alley.

'Kate!'

Dropping the books in panic, Phil rushed towards the shop, pushed aside some people and, jumping over a broken window frame, inspected the premises, looking for his daughter.

' _Ventus!_ '

A powerful blast of wind rushed into the devastated place, chasing the warm, smothering dust.

'Kate!' he kept shouting, lifting the fallen cupboards one by one.

A little cough informed him on her position. When he met her up, he found a bristly haired, face full of soot but radiant smiling Kate. She had in her hand a wand that had rolled over to her in the explosion and was, now, gleaming.

'Dad', she coughed, with no concern about the situation, 'I found my wand!'

Ivy wood, eleven inches, unicorn hair. That was the description Ollivander gave her while Phil and him managed to repair the shop with help of their wands. She was so proud of her new acquisition. The light, almost white wood, ended with a handle surrounded by three-dimensional red twists. It looked so precious and sophisticated to her, who expected a common and brown wand. Kate, sitting on the steps outside and without hiding her happiness, found amusing to make her new possession roll in her palms, when her father came back and released a hiccup of surprise:

'Scrofulous toad, Kate, you look like a perfect little doxy.'

With a move of his wand and a _Tergeo_ , the sooty marks on Kate's face disappeared.

'Come on, don't dawdle', he urged her, starting walking again. 'We have one last purchase to make before going back home.'  
'But… my list is over!' she said, surprised, while checking the letter she learnt by heart by reading it over and over.  
'You think?'  
'I've got the cauldron, the gloves, the scales, I've…'  
'What does the last line mention?'

She skimmed through the letter and, when she read the line, she lifted a stunned look towards Phil.

'You're gonna buy me an owl?!'  
'I thought about a cat, actually. We already have Littleclaws!'

Littleclaws was a Northern Saw-whet Owl[4] her father adopted little time before the Dark Lord's ascension. A really brisk and discreet ball of feathers, perfect for secret and urgent messages. Littleclaws never was a very affectionate animal; nevertheless, it seemed to consider an aberration being separated from his respected master.

'A cat? You'd be okay to buy me a cat, dad?' repeated Kate who couldn't believe her ears.  
'Listen sweet pea, with everything going on those last few months, I'd rather have you accompanied all the time in Hogwarts.'

For there was no night without a nightmare for little Kate and Phil worried about her a lot.

'But it's expensive! We spent a lot of money already!'

It didn't matter to him. He knew the importance of that day for his daughter and that's why he didn't count his Galleons to offer her a good robe and supplies of quality.

The Magical Menagerie was a privileged place to be touched by little cute creatures. Purple toads were next to charming orange snails that strongly smelled poison, a white rabbit that turned into a top hat at every jump and even a fire crab. At the bottom of the shop, tens of cages were meowing. Next to them, a black, red eyed parrot croaked at them:

'Croa! Shuuuuuut uuuup, croa! Shut up, tomcats!'  
'So, which one do you want?' asked Phil, sticking his hands in his pockets while Kate was examining inside of each cage.

One by one, cats appeared spontaneously in front of her, mewing for her to adopt them. There was a litter of kittens, all black from the bottom to the head, a not much worldly Siamese cat, a big pressing Persian, a little tabby cat, pacing in its cage, a ginger attacking its bars. And a white ball of fluff curled up at the bottom of its cage. Kate was particularly intrigued by this one and scratched the lock. Turning its head towards her, the spotless white Angora cat revealed his wall eyes, one green and one blue.

'That's it! That's the one I want! I'll call him SirSulkington!'[5]

* * *

[1] If Obliviators are Rowling's invention, the author made up the Trackers by herself.

[2] Charity Burbage is the woman we see dying in the very fist chapter of Deathly Hallows. Everything about her family is the author's invention.

[3] There again, it is an invention of Ielenna who thought Fred and George may have worked it out during Voldemort's reign. At the death of his twin, George decided to commercialize it in tribute to his brother...

[4] Northern Saw-whet Owls (Aegolius acadicus) are tiny owls. They are, for example, tinier than Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, which is a Scops Owl (Athene noctua).

[5] In the orginal version of Ludo Mentis Aciem, the author named the Angora cat "MisterMinnows", because in French, the word "vairon" means both "wall eyes" and "minnow".


	2. The Sorting Hat awakens

2\. The Sorting Hat awakens.

Were Muggles that dumb to ignore, each 1st of September, those students walking through the station with their trolleys full of luggage and, sometimes, cats or owls? Kate was obsessed with this question as she walked through King's Cross. They had left Carlton at dawn to take the car to London. But the little girl didn't close an eye during the whole travel and had woken up in one bound, when her mother came and knocked at her door, upsetting at the same time poor SirSulkington who was barely taking its marks in its new home. It granted its new mistress with a full of contempt glance before going out of the bed, a haughty look on its face. Five minutes were enough for little Kate to dress up and go downstairs with her heavy trunks, without worrying about damaging them, whereas her parents were still trying to wake up by drinking coffee. Her father, apathetic, was stirring his spoon with the magic of his finger. Waking her up at the last minute would have been wiser...

Her initials, K.W., were nailed in metallic letters on her biggest trunk. On the top of it, there was a smaller one and SirSulkington's cage, which was, by the look on its face, hatching a plan to avenge itself on humans who dared to put him back behind bars. Kate deliberately refused her father to push the trolley in her place. That was part of the rite she invented. Nevertheless, Phil was holding her by the shoulder while rounding his wife's with his other arm. Grace was hiding her anxiety as best as she could by massaging her fingers. To see her daughter leave that far, that long, following the recent events, was sinking her into deep concern. But Phil assured her Kate would be safe at Hogwarts, more than anywhere else. Being a Muggle, Grace had to trust her husband, in spite of her fears.

'Is that it… that much-touted wall you used to talk me about so much?' she asked, curious, when they reached the magical barrier between platform 9 and 10.  
'Itself!' he proclaimed, an ounce of nostalgia passing through his eyes. 'Ladies, ready to take the leap?'

He didn't give them the time to answer and pulled them towards the wall. While Grace let out what sounded like a laugh mingled with a yell of fright, Kate on the other hand, was widely smiling, and closed her eyes at the last second before impact. And when she opened them, her sight was bombarded with red, grey and brown tints. A red steam engine was spitting out white smoke. Number 5972 was stuck on its front, along with its name: Hogwarts Express. Platform 9 ¾.

'Come on, let's find you a seat', hurried her father while lightly pressing on her shoulder.

She was observing the students one by one. Some had already put their uniforms on, whereas she kept her pale pink blouse. Older students' suitcases were already adorned with houses emblems. Kate was daydreaming. The platform was so much crowded, it was difficult for them to make their way through. But in spite of the general enjoyment, she saw grief on some faces. Those who saw the horror at Hogwarts, who watched friends die in front of their eyes...

'Check that!' said proudly a pretty old student, wearing a black and yellow tie, while showing the badge on his chest. 'I'm prefect, buddy! Oh they will cry, those first years!'

Good. Now she had to pray not to end up in Hufflepuff.

'Dad, do you recognize those people?' asked the little girl, raising her face towards Phil.

He scanned the place in a brief look.

'Some by sight. It feels strange to see they're parents too. See that woman in a blue suit over there?'

A very elegant woman, in an immaculate, sophisticated style, was turning up her son's collar who was wearing Ravenclaw's uniform.

'I enchanted her Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and her bubble was so big, when it blew up, she had it all over her head! They had to cut her hair and make them grow back.'

They both burst out laughing, one for remembering, the other for imagining it, under Grace's despaired look.

'Fortunately, I still have hope for Kate to grow up or it would have been a lost cause', she sighed, smiling.

A train controller, a man with a gentle face with a Hogwarts magical badge on his vest, accosted them.

'You can leave your belongings here, miss, I'll take care of them.'  
'Thanks', stammered Kate, giving her trolley up to him.

She was about to tell him to transfer SirSulkington's cage with great care, but he was already walking away with, onboard, a cat that was particularly unhappy to be handled like merchandise. She waved her hand at it, hoping it will forgive her someday.

The family stopped in front of one of the carriage's door and shared some looks.

'Well then... The beginning of the end!'  
'Will you write to me?' she asked, worried.  
'As often as we can, I promise', answered her father.

Another promise. Will he keep it, this time? She took the bet.

'It will mainly depend on Littleclaws' laziness', he specified, putting his hands in his jeans pockets.

Her mother was the first to hold her in her arms, as touched as her daughter. When they stepped away, Grace raised her hands to her neck and took off her necklace, a leather lace bearing an amethyst disk. A jewel Kate always saw her mother wearing, as if she was born with it. Grace lifted her daughter's curls in order to close the string's clasp, while Kate's fingers closed on the pendant.

'Even if we don't see each other in months... know I'll always be with you, sweetie... I may be just a Muggle, as your dumb father says, but mothers have this magical power to always being able to keep an eye on their children, witches or not.'  
'Those Muggles are incredible', grumbled Phil. 'They don't see when there's magic, and when there's not, they make it up. They'll always surprise me!'

When she got up, she elbowed him with a little smile in the corner of her big lips. She was used to that kind of comment from her husband. Kate had always known and appreciated that rival complicity. Deep down, her parents were true kids and never really grew up.  
Then, Phil crouched down in order to be slightly lower than his daughter, who was fixing him with her big grey eyes. He had never been really talented in talking in those kinds of moments; this cost him some difficulties to begin a proper sentence:

'I'll be brief... Don't be friend with those in touch with the Death Eaters and crack the nuts to boys who come too close, or I'll do it myself! With Bludgers!'  
'Honey, she's too young to think about those things!'  
'But attending classes and having good grades seems pretty good too!'

They shared a smile before Kate casted herself into his arms, almost bringing him down. Phil gently stroked his daughter's hair. If something happened to her, moreover if it's because of him, he would never forgive himself...  
The locomotive whistled, ending their embrace. Phil caught her hand and slip some Sickles in her palm for her to buy some candies in the train.

'Now go! Hurry!'

He put down a kiss on Kate's forehead before she climbed up the stairs. She turned back one last time to wave at them and they answered back, a smile on their faces. Some students were talking in the narrow corridor, without taking seats in the compartments. With a brief look, Kate inspected the first one on her left: there was a girl with blond and curly hair, suspended by a green pin above her temple, like a doll. Her pretty, mischievous profile seemed familiar to Kate... Trying her best to ignore her shyness, she opened the sliding door and took place on the seat in front of her. The other girl ignored her a while, observing on the other side of the window, a couple that seemed to talk to her. Further in the background, Phil addressed a complicit look to his daughter before making discreetly fun of the too worried couple.

'Are they your parents?' Kate asked to the other girl.  
'I'm afraid so', she replied without looking at her.

She was disregarding them with so much natural casualness, it was edifying.

'Hogwarts is liberation for me in comparison with those maniacs.'

The train began to move slowly. Kate bent to the window to share last goodbyes with her parents. The girl in front of her finally looked at her after she granted her parents – who were still following the train – with a cordial gesture:

'Your name's Kate, right?'

Kate tensed up and turned pale while the girl was staring at her with a growing smile.

'H-How do you know?' she stammered.  
'I heard your father calling you in Madam Malkin's shop. We were there on the same day.'

She remembered now. The little blonde girl, whose parents were tracking every small detail that could be wrong, how did she forget?

'My name's Maggie Dawkins', she introduced herself.  
'Kate Whisper.'

Maggie chuckled:

'You're gonna wait a long time during the repartition!'

In the alphabetic order, Kate would be, indeed, the last to put the Sorting Hat on. The wait would be unbearable...

'Unless you already know where you'll be sent.'  
'I don't get it...'  
'Wizards families, you know. They often go to the same house from generation to generation. For example, I'm almost certain to end up in Gryffindor. My family's been there since the 18th century!'

Kate thought about that assertion while the train was leaving the centre of London. Her father was in Slytherin and both her grand-parents on her father's side were in Ravenclaw, which didn't help her at all.

The noise of the sliding door hijacked her from her thoughts. A boy's square head passed through the doorway.

'Do you mind if we come in? They're too noisy in the compartment nearby!'

He didn't wait for their answer and walked in with another girl before sitting down next to Kate, who stared at him while getting closer to the window, as if contact scared her. His bronze hair was tidy with care on his large head. He didn't wear a uniform or a badge either. And yet, he seemed older than an eleven year old first year.

'But... you're welcome!' said Maggie in an almost sarcastic smile.  
'What's happening nearby?' asked Kate in a small voice.  
'Some are already getting along extremely well and are fooling around! I can't stand them during the whole seven hours travel!'

Kate bent a little to look at the little frail girl, who quietly sat farther. Her auburn hair was hold by sticks behind her head and was harmoniously cascading in curls behind her back emphasizing her pale baby face. Hitting her _One thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ book, the young girl didn't provide them a single look or the slightest word.

'I didn't introduce myself, by the way!' exclaimed the boy, hitting his thigh. 'My name's Terry Diggle.'  
'Diggle, Diggle', repeated Maggie, squinting, like if she was concentrating.

She looked like she choked on a Pepper Imp, as she turned red, and her ears seemed to be about to smoke out under her intense thinking.

'I saw your name in the Daily Prophet this summer!' she burst out.

Terry opened wide eyes when she screamed.

'Y-Yes, it's probable', he mumbled. 'My father works at the Ministry of Magic and was part of the Order of the Phoenix.'  
'The Order of the Phoenix?' marvelled Kate. 'Your father's a hero!'  
'Well, trust me, son of hero is not an easy task', he bitterly replied.

A light of sadness passed through his eyes, very soon replaced by a warm smile.

'But the way my father speaks of Harry Potter is incredible! When he first met him at the Leaky Cauldron...'

Terry launched into a speech about his father and the Chosen One who saved the wizarding world. Kate drank in his words, admiring, while Maggie grew tired of it very quickly, watching the grey and green landscape passing by the window. The little book-girl didn't seem to have moved from an inch the whole time.

'You know, you're not the only person who has a famous father', said Maggie when Terry had finished his speech about his father's battle at Hogwarts.  
'Really?'  
'My father is Hector Dawkins' son.'  
'Who that is?' muttered Terry, frowning his thick blonde eyebrows.  
'The inventor of the Omnioculars, you ignorant! You know those binoculars for Quidditch that allows you to replay and slow down actions.'  
'Really?' gushed Kate, always astounded every time she discovers something about the magical world.  
'So what?' retorted Terry, who didn't see Maggie's point. 'What's that got to do with your father?'  
'Nothing. Just to say my father is very rich and that's enough.'

Terry and Kate shared a look, not knowing whether to laugh or say nothing so they wouldn't hurt her feelings. But the statements about her father seemed ridiculous compared to Terry's father and his adventures in the Order.

'What about you, Kate?' asked Terry. 'What does your father do?'  
'He's a Tracker', she answered in a shy voice.  
'Is he?' he gushed, his eyes sparkling. 'That's an awesome job! Which district?'  
'Err... I don't know!'

Trackers were, indeed, given a ground bounded by the Ministry and any incident with Muggles done by magical creatures was their responsibility. That was a 31 miles sphere of operation.

'That's as exciting as a cockroach exterminator for Muggles', yawned Maggie.

Kate scowled, settling on her seat, but said nothing. Seeing such arrogance in that girl, there was no doubt she would break the family tradition and end up in Slytherin.

Terry turned towards the silent girl and was about to ask her the same question, when the service trolley showed itself in the corridor, pushed by an old hunched lady. They immediately all raised their heads. Putting forward wisdom before greed, Kate preferred to take only a Chocolate Frog, a little box of Cauldron Cakes and another one of SugarButterfly Wings[1], her favourites. Her father used to bring her some when she was a child, and she had great fun trying to catch the sweetie butterflies that flown around the house. To the great displeasure of her mother, who spent her time collecting the fallen items, the small knocked-down furniture or her own daughter who had sprained her ankle trying to catch on flight the butterfly on the shelter.

Next to her, Terry invested in a big package of Jelly Slugs and a huge stock of Bertie Bott's every flavour beans, Maggie just took an enormous Chocoball, holding out a Galleon to the old lady with a provocative look. As for the little girl with copper-coloured curls, she ordered Pumpkin Pasties in such a low and high-pitched voice that only the lady could understand her by reading her thin lips. Kate's clumsiness showed again when she opened up her Chocolate Frog package and let it slip at her feet. She looked a long time for it crawling under the seats before she could get her hands on the amphibian which was now standing still as its magic was cleared away. While biting the head, she returned to her seat and took the card in the package. Imagine her surprise, and her neighbour's, when she recognized the moving wizard on it...:

'Harry Potter?!' exclaimed Terry, his mouth full of Jelly Slugs. 'They finally released it?'  
'Rumours have it; it will become a collector's edition', enlightened Maggie, nibbling her Chocoball she previously wiped with a handkerchief, as if trying to take away any trace of fingerprints on the candy. 'They only released a hundred cards. I suggest you to cast a protection spell on it, before someone steals it from you!'

Making slight rotations with the card, Kate considered the young well-known wizard. He had a slight teasing look behind his round glasses. Under his black hair, was hiding his so famous scar inflicted by the Dark Lord himself. How could a boy have defeated the greatest threat of the wizarding world in the space of a few years, while more experienced ones confronted their Nemesis during decades, sometimes by sacrificing their entire lives, before bringing them down.

The journey seemed endless to Kate who was hoping to see Hogwarts' silhouette behind each hill, while Terry and Maggie were discussing about Quidditch. A debate the young girl had difficulties to follow. They were complaining about the World Cup – which takes place every four years – that had been reported to next year because of the recent events. Kate saw, in a few occasions, some students passing by their compartment's door, becoming more and more excited as they were approaching Hogwarts. Putting her robe on made her shiver as the night was falling in the horizon.

'There! I can see it!' yelled Terry, stuck to the window.

Small lights, like little stars, were shining along the Hogwarts towers. Some repairing works, following the battle that took place last May, were visible. She couldn't enjoy the view more, when the building was swallowed by the trees. The train slowed down as it arrived to Hogsmeade station.  
Students rushed out of the train and happiness could be seen on every single face. Older students, leaving their suitcases on the platform, took a path to the forest while a booming voice invited the first years to gather around:

'Firs' years! Over here!'

When she stepped out of the train with Maggie and Terry, Kate saw the huge silhouette of Hagrid, the gamekeeper.

'Firs' years, gather around!'

In the middle of the crowd, Kate tried not to stare at her new neighbours, too intimidated by their presence, but also by the half-giant who was watching the whole of them with a satisfied look. When all forty students were around him, he invited them to follow him, carrying his enormous lantern in his hand.

'Ev'ryone to the boats! Hurry! Reception's waitin'!'

They took a wet underground passage, which was leading to the boathouse in a creek. Five by five, they took on board. Maggie followed Kate, who almost threw herself in the first boat. Another girl completed the trio – tall and slim, her long black hair glowing like hematite –, followed by two boys.

'Good, we can go now?' Hagrid verified, from a boat of his own, scanning the students with his large lantern. 'Let's go!'

Immediately, the boats started to move by themselves on the surface, staying close to each other. The clear, starry sky revealed itself as soon as they came out of the cave. On its rock, the Hogwarts castle gleamed in the light, its silhouette underlined by tens of orange lights which covered the walls with coloured shadows. A magical fire was burning at the top of the astronomy tower, thin and hail in the middle of the place. An impressive tower overhung the Great Hall location, remarkable by its gothic arched surmounted with pointed pinnacles. For the occasion, small lights had been released and were dotting the shimmering black surface of the lake. Kate, wishing to touch one of them, bent over the edge and lost her balance. She would have fallen, if it wasn't for Maggie, who grabbed her by the collar to bring her back on the boat.

'Are you a natural clumsy?' she reproached with her usual straight-talk.  
'Seems so!' replied Kate, catching her breath. 'Thank you!'  
'You're welcome.'

When they arrived on the shore, the students went off the boats, overflowing with excitement. A tiny, goblin height, man welcomed them on the quay. He was wearing glasses, a wagging moustache and a custom-made suit. He looked truly thrilled as he was rubbing his hands.

'Welcome to Hogwarts, dear young students!' he announced in a high voice, loud enough for everyone to hear him. 'Let me introduce myself: I'm professor Flitwick, new deputy headmaster and you'll have the opportunity to have me as your Charms class teacher. It is necessary, before I bring you in the Great Hall, to remind you of some points.'

Some students in the back whispered about the houses they knew by reputation, teachers and many other things. But Kate, in the front, was drinking in her future professor's words.

'After putting the Sorting Hat on your head, you'll be sorted into different houses. There are four of them: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. You will, then, join your housemates at the corresponding table and, after the reception, your common rooms. During your seven years here, you will remain in the house you were attributed by the Hat and have to earn points by your distinctions and implication in classes. Because at the end of each year, the house that gathers the most points wins the House Cup. Do you have any questions?'

A young girl raised her hand and the professor, all smiling, questioned her.

'Professor, where are our luggage?'  
'We stored them in the hall for the moment, but they will be brought to your dormitories as soon the repartition ceremony is finished.'

After one last look to the student's assembly, professor Flitwick clapped his hands.

'If there's no more question, let's go!'

Even though everyone wanted to push each other in order to arrive first in the Great Hall, the group climbed up in an organized row. In the back, Hagrid locked up the rear. They went through the main courtyard, lit up with torches. Some broken paving stones, from last May's battle, were still strewed over the ground. In the entrance hall, all had the tied throat. Kate in particular; she was so anxious, she stumbled over a step. The Great Hall had taken on its more beautiful assets to celebrate this new year under the sign of freedom and rebirth for the school. Golden candles were floating in midair, the ceiling was displaying a brown sky with sparkling stars, just like the ones during those hot summer nights near big metropolises. The group of students crossed the Great Hall, between delight and apprehension. Kate discreetly watched the elder's faces, who were already installed at their tables. Some were encouraging them with a glance, or a sign of their hand, some were completely ignoring them, as they weren't very different from the first years that preceded them. They stopped in front of the steps that separated the teachers' table from the students, under their tiny Charms teacher's order. In the middle of his colleagues, an old witch with a pinched air, her tight bun under her dark green ornamented with eagle feathers hat, was standing still in her impressing seat, while Hagrid took place near her, exceeding from several inches all of the other teachers. After Voldemort's defeat and the death of the former Headmaster, Severus Snape, the job had been given to the deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall. This year, a little stepladder was placed near the Sorting Hat that was standing at its usual emplacement. Professor Flitwick certainly was responsible for the role of putting the magical hat on the students' heads. This one, all patched up and still covered with its one year nap's dust, opened its large crack and sang:

 _'In your ancestors' far-off day  
_ _I was a beautiful hat without equal  
_ _My masters, whose love wasn't to weigh  
_ _And to whom, in respect, I was not really frugal  
_ _Sorting Hat, that's what they called me  
_ _All gave me the word, the role which fell to me  
_ _To award to each new apprentice his house  
_ _That'll fit him and make his qualities rouse_ _  
_

 _Hogwarts was built on highly skilled values  
_ _To welcome within the apprentices  
_ _In the middle of a field of autumn crocus  
_ _Alongside a large lake full of fishes_ _  
_

 _For the noble Gryffindor, bravery was first  
_ _And courage was the key of each gesture and each thought  
_ _Because his students never can back up  
_ _That is a virtue that cannot be taught  
_ _The kind Ravenclaw extolled intelligence  
_ _Source of benefaction and great discoveries  
_ _Her students had no place for chance  
_ _And that's what hard work guarantees  
_ _Sweet Hufflepuff acted in fairness  
_ _Tolerance was her irrefutable credo  
_ _And to her more is better than less  
_ _In kindness, Hufflepuffs always forego  
_ _The cunning Slytherin advocated mischievousness  
_ _Trickery and ambition above all  
_ _Between themselves, his followers were partners  
_ _Their dreams of success were never too small_

 _So put my humble self on your head  
_ _Because young wizards, from this day forth  
_ _Your hearts' choice will be said  
_ _For you are Hogwarts students thenceforth [3]'_ _  
_

A thunderous applause burst out to salute the Sorting Hat's song. But it muddled up Kate's thought more than ever. None of these qualities seemed acquired, except clumsiness. For the moment, she was pretty sure to be sorted in Hufflepuff, with the non-reassuring prefect she met at the station. Climbing on the stepladder, professor Flitwick unrolled the parchment on which the new students' names were written.

'Beckett, Emeric', he called.

Kate immediately recognized the boy who stepped out of the crowd. She had met him at Madam Malkin's; he was the boy desperately trying to get out of his robe that was too large. She noticed he finally found one at his size! Emeric straightened his glasses, hands shaking and then took place on the stool. It only took a few seconds before the Sorting Hat made its decision:

'Ravenclaw!'

A round of applause welcomed the student under the blue banners while Emeric, embarrassed by all those looks, joined them at the table. Those who followed were sorted into Ravenclaw too, or Hufflepuff. The girl who was in the boat with Kate and Maggie was named Calypso Curtiss. She was the first sent to Slytherin.

'Dawkins, Maggie', continued Flitwick while Calypso was fluidly and gracefully walking to the Slytherin table.

The little girl tensed up a moment, pale, and went towards the stool. This time, the Sorting Hat took longer than for the others to make its decision while Maggie was still looking terrified, like if she saw a Grim. Finally, the Hat spoke up:

'Gryffindor!'

So, in spite of her personality which would have been a very good reason for the Hat's hesitation, she was right back in the train. Her plump cheeks regained some colours and she scampered along towards the Gryffindors, making her pretty blonde curls rebound.

'Diggle, Terrence', the professor carried on.

Terry looked more confident than his predecessors and was smiling, as if he had waited for this moment his entire life. Flitwick put the hat on his brown with blonde highlights mop of hair.

'Hufflepuff!'

Kate regretted that Terry and Maggie weren't in the same house. Be with them would have been the chance of a lifetime. Repartition kept going. A certain Griffin Gale was sorted into Gryffindor, and Kate wished it would have been Terry. She found Griffin was a lot like her father, a younger version of him, with his short hair, his assured look and his show off smile. Some students later, Kate met the Ledger twins, of which the boy was the reason of the noise Terry talked about in the train. He was sorted in Slytherin, while his sister, a lot more calm and shy, went to Ravenclaw.

'MacNair, Morgana.'

Hearing that name, a racket pierced through the silence. In fact, it was just Hagrid who hopped off his chair. However, his astonished look didn't reassure little Kate, who knew it was a bad sign. The girl who stepped out of the group caught her eyes. She had a pale complexion, short and glowing dark hair. She had a cute little face with her turned-up nose, nevertheless, her steely grey eyes, just like the Whisper's, were so sinister and expressionless that it was properly terrifying.

'Slytherin!' claimed the hat which had barely been put on her head.

That didn't bode well... Kate had to get some information on her as soon as she could. She suspected the girl to be a Pure Blood and even a Death Eater's relative...

'Miller, Moira.'

To the general surprise, a dwarf girl walked out of the reduced group. Some whispers rose from the tables and little Moira looked at them with a half-contempt gaze down from the steps, knowing and used to their mutters. Professor Flitwick, who shared her handicap, was very accommodating with her, particularly when it came to help her climb the stool.

'Gryffindor!'

Cheers doubled at the Gryffindors' table and even professor Flitwick applauded. However, Kate had difficulty to imagine Moira sharing a room with a particularly haughty and arrogant Maggie. Everything was here to make things degenerate quickly between those two. A girl called Juno Nightingal burst into tears when she was sorted into Slytherin, which cost her taunts from some of her housemates, while some others, more understanding, welcomed her to the table. While more students were sorted, Kate kept an attentive look on the red haired little girl, who was with them during the journey on the Hogwarts Express and who still didn't say a word. She had to wait far in the list to finally hear her name:

'Smethwyck, Hygie.'  
'She's St Mango's manager's daughter', whispered a boy to his friend, next to Kate.

So, this shy little girl was the daughter of a reputed wizard at the head of the greatest hospital in the magical world? That must certainly explain her quiet passion for her Herbology book in the train.

'Ravenclaw!'

She got up with a slight smile and moved away in small footsteps. Kate really feared to be the last one when there were still two of them – she and a dark skinned boy – waiting in front of the steps.

'Watson, Jason.'

He abandoned her there, at the mercy of solitude and the other students' attention, who were tired of the repartition and waiting for the banquet. Once Jason was sorted into Gryffindor, professor Flitwick looked at her, then at the list, before calling her:

'Whisper, Katelyna.'

She climbed the steps very carefully to not trip over the red carpet. Her whole body was shaking when she took place on the stool and felt the Sorting Hat on her head.

'Oh, very, very interesting', whispered the Hat in her ear. 'I've been waiting for you for centuries, dear child. Long and endless centuries, during which, I couldn't fully accomplish the mission that was given to me. My liberation finally comes with you, thanks to your blood. And I see in your mind the virtues of the person who ordered me to remain faithful to her. Because your personality is the result of injustices, that were committed against you as a child. You possess as much Gryffindors' bravery, Hufflepuffs' altruism, Ravenclaws' wittiness and Slytherins' cunning. You're hiding each and every one of those facets deep down in your heart... But let me help you to assert them...'

What did all of this mean?! Kate was shuddering and hesitated to take the Sorting Hat off because of the disturbance it raised in her. But then, it let out the cry that long resounded in the Great Hall and changed her life forever:

'Shatterfly!'

First, a long silence took place, then surprised whispers and stupefied hiccups, followed by one single laugh from the Slytherin table. McGonagall, for a moment, hesitated to overreact. Flitwick, who almost fell off his stepladder from surprise, took the hat off Kate's head, examined it and then replaced it on her, hoping it was nothing but a mistake. And yet, the Sorting Hat remained silent. Annoyed, the Charms class teacher discreetly tried on some mumbled spells, but nothing succeeded in waking the hat up. Kate felt tears coming up but, under all those looks, she had to contain herself. What was that masquerade? It was a nightmare, or a very bad joke. Why couldn't the hat send her into a house, like everybody else? She would even accept to go to Hufflepuff if she really had to, if it avoids her to be humiliated.

While the whispers were gaining in intensity in the Great Hall, the Headmistress shared some looks with her colleagues before standing up and walking towards the scene, facing the students and hiding an overwhelmed Kate's view. McGonagall acted as if nothing happened:

'Dear students, young wizards and witches, welcome to Hogwarts', she began, hiding her confusion by holding her bony hands. 'Seeing the recent events, I must draw your attention to the fact that some parts of the school are closed because of high damages. We ask you to be very careful... Remember that the Forbidden Forest is still forbidden. But before I introduce you to your new teachers, I'd like us to pay tribute.'

Her voice was sad and hoarse. Kate was shaking on her stool, still decked out in the Sorting Hat.

'Many of you suffered the occupation Hogwarts endured during months. More than students, some of you acted as heroes. And this school is forever thankful for your fight. Unfortunately... Some of you... didn't have your chance. Let's never forget the wizards, witches and students who lost their lives to save yours...'

Sobs were heard through the place. Some had lost their friends, brothers, sisters, cousins under their eyes... From her point of view, Kate didn't manage to see further than McGonagall's thick green taffeta dress, relieved, for a time, no to have to see her schoolmates' sad, haggard faces. But she well imagined the grief that was reigning over the four tables as the Headmistress listed the names of the lost ones... Was it an act of bravery, or guilt, that she remembered all of them?

'As last year's program didn't match with the various apprenticeships' expectations', McGonagall went on, tensing up after the minute of silence. 'We have the regret to announce that certain classes will have to work hard and show determination in order to catch up.'

A wave of moderate disapprovals rose, but the Headmistress immediately resumed:

'However, the teachers will be available anytime to help you as best as they can, for we are well aware of your particular situation. The staff had a few changes, but not the least, for you will have carefully selected teachers at the top of their game. Professor Flitwick here, head of the Ravenclaw house and Charms class teacher, is replacing me as Deputy Headmaster.'

Noisy applauses greeted the tiny professor who was still on his stepladder, repeatedly bowing, with a proud and satisfied look on his face.

'Replacing me in Transfiguration class, professor Wolffhart, coming straight from continental Europe, who accepted to take the job. Thank you for welcoming him properly.'

McGonagall turned towards the table on her left where a sinister and expressionless man with abundant and greying hair, dressed in a long black coat and a bright red scarf, got up. He nodded and grabbed his collar, frowning his dark thick eyebrows, while students were politely applauding this new teacher no one knew.

'As professor Sprout retired, following the events that soiled our school', continued the Headmistress with her usual pinched voice. 'This time, as a teacher and not as a student, I introduce you to Mr Longbottom, who will take Herbology classes in charge.'

Immediately, a thunderous ovation resounded in the Great Hall. Neville Longbottom wasn't unknown for anybody, even Kate, who had read about him on numerous Daily Prophets' editions, this summer. He was one of Hogwarts' heroes and best friend with the boy-who-lived. Kate, who had never been interested in him until today, turned towards him to see that clumsy young man, waving with enjoyment at the crowd, who knew him well for his exploits. Only a few shy boos were coming from Slytherins' table.

'It seems judicious to me to add that professor Longbottom, besides teaching Herbology, is given the title of new head of Gryffindor.'

Gryffindors' table went crazy, applauding so hard their hands could have bleed! They were shouting, whistling and banging their fists on the wood, expressing their happiness like never before.

'As professor Slughorn is now head of the Slytherin house, Hufflepuffs will have professor Sinistra as their new head of house.'

They both just nodded.

'As for your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher', declared McGonagall, shaking the eagle feathers of her emerald green hat, 'he asks you to forgive his absence. For professional reasons, he couldn't manage to be here for the ceremony.'

One of the chairs next to Neville was, indeed, empty. New whispers rose. A very slight smile, almost imperceptible, appeared on the strict and wrinkled Headmistress' face.

'However, he won't miss the occasion to introduce himself during your first classes with him. And now, enjoy your meal!'

Large, well-served dishes appeared on the tables, under all the students' ecstatic sighs, along with pumpkin juice's carafes. Having now diverted their attention, McGonagall turned towards Kate and, after she took back the hat, ordered her to follow her. Professor Flitwick followed too, jumping off his stepladder, while the Headmistress told the other heads of houses to come with her, in spite of the dinner. They took a little door, hidden behind the teachers' table, which took them to narrow and dark stairs that led to an antechamber. Many portraits were suspended on the wall. A wizard, with a moustache that made him look like a walrus, stared at Kate when she entered the room, stroking his chin with his fingertips.

'Sit down, miss Whisper', asked McGonagall, making a chair and a table approach with a move of her wand.

Kate, pale, did what she was told, while professor Slughorn was closing the door as everyone was inside.

'You may be hungry!' pointed out professor Sinistra with an accommodating voice.

She pulled out her wand too and drawn a circle on the table. Immediately, a well-served plate from the kitchens appeared under her amazed look.

'What happened, Filius?' asked the Headmistress as much taken aback as strict.  
'I can't tell, Minerva!' he stammered, fervently shaking his head from left to right. 'The Sorting Hat refuses to answer! And, believe me, I'd rather not abuse with spells on it!'  
'Is that the first time that kind of thing happens, professor McGonagall?' asked Neville.

She gave him a stern look which made him look even paler than he already was.

'Mister Longbottom, we are colleagues now, I'd ask you not to call me "professor" anymore when we're between us.'  
'Very well, professor... I mean... Minerva!' stammered Longbottom, embarrassed.  
'To my knowledge', interfered professor Slughorn, clutching his suspenders under his brown-greyish vest, 'the Sorting Hat never talked about a house with such a grotesque name as... Shatterfly? Is that right?'  
'Even if it did mention a fifth house', McGonagall pointed out staring at little Kate who was enjoying her stew.

She was listening with great interest what they were saying but pretended not to be.

'I'm not even sure the oldest ghosts here could deny it... No record refers to a fifth house, we would have known!'  
'Miss Whisper... Can you tell us what the Sorting Hat said to you?' squealed Flitwick.

Kate raised her head, a big cut of stew still in her mouth, and stopped chewing when noticing all five professors were staring at her. Uncomfortable, she swallowed and gave a brief look to the hat that was put in front of her.

'He said... he's been waiting for me for a very long time. And that he was faithful to someone...'  
'To who?'  
'I don't know', she said, shaking. 'He just said "she", but... that's it!'  
'That's it?!' repeated Slughorn.  
'But do you have any idea why he sent you into that house?' continued Sinistra.  
'He told me that... I activated something. That there was something in my blood, I think...!'

Some part of her refused her to talk about what she endured in the past, what the hat had mentioned.

'Do you have any famous ascendency?' asked the Potions master.  
'I-I don't think so! My father is a wizard and my mother is a Muggle.'  
'Of course, how foolish of me!' he claimed. 'Whisper! As in Philippus Whisper, your father! I should have remembered him. He was in my house, back in my old days at Hogwarts! A bundle of fun he was! Not very good in Potions but I must admit he had a certain sense of humour and repartee!'

He had a fat laugh, his lips closed, but when he noticed his colleagues' looks, he stopped:

'But I'm digressing...'  
'You knew him as a student, Horace', added McGonagall, who saw so many generations of young wizards that a Slytherin student totally disappeared from her memory as soon he left Hogwarts.  
'Indeed. And I can certify he had no famous ancestors...'

Slughorn always made a point in his students' reputations. He invited them to his meetings, known as "The Slug Club". He was in the best position to say that.[3]

'However, the legitimacy of such a house cannot be accepted without proves', snapped McGonagall.  
'But... where will I go?' worried Kate with a small voice, after she finished her plate.  
'The Sorting Hat sent only four girls into Gryffindor this year and there are five beds', declared Neville. 'Miss Whisper certainly can join them until...'  
'Until what? We are not going to give her a dormitory on her own! For the moment, Shatterfly is nothing but a word leaving a lot of doubts.'  
'Nevertheless, we must make researches about this unlikely phenomenon in order to properly react if it happens again next years... And measures have to be taken for Miss Whisper.'

When they went to the Great Hall, a lot of students already had finished their dinner and were gone to their common rooms. Kate noticed that all the first years were gone, probably guided by their prefects. She crossed the alley without trying to hide from her older schoolmates' inquisitive looks, grabbed some marshmallows into Hufflepuffs' salad bowl, causing three of them to fall, and went out of the dining room. She chose by instinct to follow a small group of students into the stairs. Nothing went as she planned. She always dreamt about integration and a warming feeling. But she ended alone, wandering about in the school, searching for the Gryffindor common room. Around the corner of some corridors, she chose to ask some portraits. Some laughed at her, going back to their activities, from dragon hunt to stichstock[4], the Quidditch's ancestor. But the portrait of a witch wearing a brown dress and a red cape nicely showed her the way. On the third floor, as she passed under some armours' gazes, a white light coming from the wall swooped down and stole her marshmallows. An acrid laughter resounded in her ears. Surprised and annoyed, the little girl raised her head towards the sly spirit with a bright orange bowtie who was juggling with her sweets.

'Give me my candies back!' she complained.  
'You're gonna be fatter, chap!' cackled the poltergeist, opening wider its large mouth, floating nine stairs above.

He capered towards her, taunting her by placing the marshmallows above her head.

'Aren't you the first year no one wants?'

He concluded his sentence with a sarcastic chuckle.

'Houseless! Houseless!'

Furious and close to tears, Kate ran in the stairs, leaving her candies and hoping to lose the poltergeist. But Peeves was singing behind her, repeating the same words before bombarding her with her own marshmallows.  
When she reached the fat lady portrait, Kate realized she didn't know the password. Even though she insisted, the portrait refused to move and even threatened her to call other portraits to the rescue if she didn't go away. Sullen, Kate sat, legs crossed, in front of the portrait, ignoring the warnings the fat lady was throwing at her from time to time in her outraged, rattled voice.

'Neville told me I would find you here.'

Hearing the voice, Kate jumped and turned back. She got up on her feet when she saw the young woman with dull brown, untidy hair, wearing dapper clothes and her Gryffindor well-knotted tie. By the look of her, she seemed to be a seven year...

'You were looking for me?' stammered an intimidated Kate.  
'I was, yes. What an idea to rush like that without asking for the password. Still... You have a marshmallow in your hair.'

She tried to smile but it didn't really reassure Kate, who grabbed her candy before swallowing it without further ado. Then, the young woman turned towards the fat lady's portrait and said:

' _Mimbulus mimbletonia_.'

At the mention of the password, the frame slid, opening a narrow passageway into which she slipped, followed by a sick with fear Kate. The Gryffindor common room emanated soothing warmth by its gold and red hangings on the walls as well as the huge fireplace in which ashes were crackling. When they saw her coming in, some students who were talking in the comfortable sofas, stopped their conversations and started to whisper.

'By my great-aunt's owls, what is she doing here?'  
'She finally chose the best house!'  
'Oh, shut up! Don't you think she's already been through a lot?'

The seven year student led her to the staircase entrance and stopped against the rib stone frame.

'Your dormitory is on the first floor', she said.  
'Thanks a lot', stammered Kate, grateful.  
'That's no problem. Good night, Katelyna.'  
'Wait!'

The young lady turned back and raised an eyebrow.

'What is your name?'

She smiled and waited a few seconds before she answered:

'Hermione. Hermione Granger.'

Kate's mouth opened so widely a Quaffle could have entered in with no difficulty. This war hero, there, in front of her, today, who accompanied her. It was more than she hoped for.

'Her-Hermione Granger?! That... That's a honour!'  
'It's nothing!' she blushed.  
'But I thought you weren't at Hogwarts anymore! How was it like to defeat You-Know-Who? How is Harry Potter?'  
'Calm down', laughed Hermione, interrupting her tsunami of questions. 'Yes, I'm here to pass my N.E.W.T.s, it's important to me. But we can talk about that another day. We'll certainly meet here or at the library. I well intend to make some researches on your... house! I find it intriguing. It really wasn't... normal! I know _Hogwarts, a history_ by heart and never, ever, the Sorting Hat talked about a fifth house! It's regrettable the library opens only tomorrow, I would have go tonight! Still...! If you wish, you can help me into my researches! You're the first concerned, after all!'

Kate's cheeks blushed with glee. Then, she said goodbye to the young witch before she climbed the stairs two by two. The welcome she received when she opened the door seemed to live up to this evening:

'Ah!' claimed a wrathful Maggie, not surprised to see her, accusingly pointing her out with her pillow. 'I knew that horrible, furry thing was yours! Look at the crime he dared to commit against me!'

SirSulkington, that was brought here, had decided to scratch Maggie's trunk and had taken down the metallic "D", which he had begun to chew, nonchalantly laid on the edge of the window, his tail swinging like a white furry metronome.

'Did the Sorting Hat finally send you into Gryffindor?' asked shyly a tall girl, with mahogany hair and a rounded face, who was reading a small book, laid on her bed.  
'No, it did as it pleases', admitted Kate while she closed the door. 'Professors decided I would stay with you for the moment...'

As professor Longbottom suggested, there was an empty bed on the extreme left, near the door. The circular room was provided with long diagonally barred windows between each bed. There was two candlesticks hung on the wall at each side of the door and orange red coloured candles had been placed on each bedside table.

'I think those beds are high', grumbled Moira, who let herself fall on her cover, her legs swinging in the space, too small to touch the floor. 'I should have been sorted into Ravenclaw. Apparently, their beds are closer to the ground.'  
'For the sake of one-legged goblins, where did I put my pyjamas?!' worried a fourth girl with long and silky blonde, perfectly curled hair, who was searching into her luggage on her bed.  
'So no one has the decency to stand up for me about my trunk that had been devastated by this monster?!' said Maggie in the middle, outraged and on the borders of hysteria.

A light smile tickled the corner of Kate's lips. Maybe it wasn't the evening she expected so much, it wasn't any less a new beginning...

* * *

[1] Even if SugarButterfly Wings aren't mentionned in the books , they belong to the HP universe.  
[2] I tried my best to stay faithful to the French version. Ielenna did a great job with her Sortin Hat's song, I didn't want to ruin it.  
[3] And for those who wonder: no, Phil never joined the Slug Club! He would rather die than do that.  
[4] Stichstock is a German sport that is practiced on broomsticks. A dragon's bladder is swelled and placed on the top of a very tall mast and a wizard guards it. The other 15 players must try to pierce it. The winner is either the guardian if he succeeds in defeating his 15 opponents, either the 15 players if they pierce the bladder. Judged too dangerous, it was forbidden during the 15th century.


	3. The girl in grey an green

3\. The girl in grey and green.

Mornings in the Great Hall were generally quite a bit noisy. Students, half-sleeping, were struggling to keep their eyes open in front of their plates. Some rare brave ones were enthusiastically discussing about the day to come.

'Can you make less noise when you eat?'

Maggie, who was chewing her fried eggs with a lethargic look, gave to Suzanna, the new Gryffindor with a pale complexion and long, curly blonde hair, an indifferent gaze. Provocative, she applied to make more noise.

'I'm eating...' she grumbled. 'And like I want, by the way...'

A grin appeared on Kate's face, who was with them this morning and consulted the parchment on which their schedule was.

'Wednesday', she said out loud, 'Charms from nine to ten and a half. Transfiguration from ten and a half to noon. And this afternoon, Care of Magical Creatures.'  
'Yayyyyy...' sighed Maggie. 'We begin classes with a short-legged... Ouch!'

A book just hit her back.

'I heard you', grumbled the little Moira who climbed on the bench to take place.

Two braids were rounding her face and mingling in a complex flat bun on the top of her head, like a crown.

'Watch out, you've got a tablemat in your hair', said Maggie.

Moira forced a smile and ignored her neighbour's overweening remark, while serving herself some pumpkin juice, arms stretched.  
A flock of owls invaded the Great Hall, carrying letters and parcels of presents from the new students' parents for their first year. If a solemn looking Great Horned Owl presented itself in front of Maggie with a letter in its beak, it was a tiny one that was twirling around Kate's head.

'Littleclaws!' she exclaimed, extending her arm so it can land on it.

It flapped its wings several times and stretched its neck to give her the crumpled paper it was carrying. It granted her a brief look for goodbyes before flying away as fast as it came. Littleclaws never was very affectionate. It just fulfilled its missions.

Kate unfolded the letter and recognized her father's chaotic handwriting.

 _"Sweet pea,_

 _I hope everything's fine for you. I got wind_ _of what happened to you at the ceremony, professor McGonagall sent me an owl to explain your particular situation.  
_ _I wouldn't have expected better from you, as unique as you are. You had to have a house of your own!  
_ _Don't worry, everything's gonna be fine. I already told you the most important isn't your house, but the life you'll live at Hogwarts and the friends you'll make. I'm proud of you.  
_ _Take care. I'll send you another letter next week._

 _Dad."_

Following the not so literary words of her father, some upstroke and nicely written ones:

 _"For lack of having phones to call you, we think a lot about you and send you load of kisses from the bottom of our hearts. I hope my necklace will give you luck.  
_ _Be brave, sweetie._

 _Mom."_

Kate's feverish fingers stroked the stone disk hanging around her neck, warm against her skin.

The first Charms classes turned out to be pricklier than Kate would have imagined. If theory, which she listened to very carefully, didn't cause any problem, practice was a sweet moment of disappointment. First years' program for this term was: manipulation and influence on nearby small objects. For their first hour, each student received a broken cup they had to repair. Few succeeded at first try and the most talented were given a more complicated task, with a cup in three, four or even five bits. But when Kate raised her wand and intoned a resolute " _Reparo!_ " the cup disintegrated in smoking pieces, causing her neighbours' hilarity, while professor Flitwick hastened to give her another container which suffered the same fate.

'I suck...' she declared, hopelessly, when exiting the classroom at the end of the hour.  
'No you don't', whispered with a thin voice Scarlett Hodgson, the last Gryffindor with mahogany hair. 'We all made mistakes!'  
'Especially Maggie!' laughed Moira, trying her best to keep the pace.

The rich girl did, indeed, suffer some difficulties, but she just cut more pieces of her cup, she didn't disintegrate it, like Kate.

'All right, all right', grumbled Maggie while pulling her shoulder-bag back against her thigh, 'it was only the first class!'

They had to go through the building, then cross the courtyard. The trees with their dark green leaves were making it a pleasant cloister to have a break. The covered playground was overlooking a row of doors, one of them – the most impressive at the centre – being the Transfiguration's one. The Gryffindor girls were the first to come in. If there was a thing that gobsmacked them in this room with a high ceiling, that was the gigantic organ that was placed at the bottom of the room, on the professor's stage. So large, it was covering almost entirely the semi-circular wall! At his desk, professor Wolffhart was scribbling with his threadlike pheasant feather. So focused, his thick, frowning eyebrows seemed to touch his eyelids. Raising his head, he didn't even granted the newcomers with a smile and stayed stoical.

'Willkommen, Fräulein. Please, have a seat.'

His voice was so deep, it sounded hollow, enforced by his pronounced German accent. Shyly, they took place at the front while other students were coming in. Kate sat at the table at the very front, on the left, close to the wall, and was taking her quill, book, parchment and ink bottle out when she felt the warm feeling of a gaze in her back. She flip-flopped and found herself face to face with the steely eyes of the girl who sat at the table behind, her green tie neatly knotted under her rounded chin. Morgana McNair didn't take her eyes from her when, mortified, Kate turned slowly back to her table, her face transfixed in a non-hidden bewilderment. This girl, even though she was pretty – if she wasn't displaying this gloomy look –, didn't inspire her any trust. She could easily be compared to those little girls in those horror movies her father watched. The only ones he allowed himself to watch on this Muggle machine called TV, without criticizing them for their lack of realism.

Before she could have whispered to Maggie on her right, professor Wolffhart got up from his chair, hitting the desk with his hands in order to take a run-up. The noise was such; everyone jumped and fell silent, eyes fixed on the new teacher, who moved forward slowly, straightening his bright red scarf and his black felt collar, before putting his hands behind his back. He didn't have an impressive stature, but his tall silhouette – made slimmer by his long coat, topped with his expressionless chalky face – commanded respect and silence.

'Gut', he said with his gravelly voice. 'Now that everyone seems to be here and quiet, I think we can start.'

He went to the blackboard in big steps and grabbed the chalk. His writing was so frenetic and he was pressing so hardly, the chalk crushed in little pieces that fell on the floor.

'For those of you who are moles or don't possess the required cognitive abilities to decipher these words, my name is Wilhelm Wolffhart', he claimed in a booming voice after scribbling on the board. 'And you'll have the chance and the honour to stand me as your Transfiguration teacher during your seven years here, if Merlin wills.'

Maggie and Kate shared a worried look.

'Gut. Before starting the first lesson, I'd like to establish some rules with you. Three of them.'

With an amused and threatening look, he illustrated his words by raising three of his fingers in front of his large chin.

'Zunächst, I will not accept any lateness over the duration of a water clock's scale, otherwise, the students will attend my lessons transfigured into frogs. Any reaction?'

Indeed, two cones, between which a golden steady stream was running, were levitating over his desk. When the one at the top was empty, they romped about in a midair waltz, before inverting their places. From what Kate was able to see, thanks to her excellent eyesight, a scale was about less than thirty seconds. A very short delay! He wasn't joking... although they didn't know if it was a serious threat.

'Zweitens, you certainly noticed, my native Germany strongly comes out in your barbaric language. I will not accept any remark on that. Questions?'

A hand rose in the middle of the room. Wolffhart lowered his chin to allow the boy to talk:

'Did you fight in the Silberfalken?'

The Silberfalken's league was a group of German wizards who took the responsibility to protect Muggles fifty years ago, during World War 2 and Adolf Hitler's ascension. Some of them even tried to go after the Führer himself, but they didn't count on other wizards, with malicious intents, who were taking advantage of the auto-proclaimed chancellor for their glory and were ready to do anything it takes to earn their legitimacy at the head of the system. Those wizards were called Schafen. Sheep, traitors.

Professor Wolffhart had a scolding look.

'Zweitens bis, I will not accept any remark on that fact and questions about my strictly personal past.'

A breathe of disappointment went through the room. Even if the subject wasn't tackled a lot in the modern wizarding world, the Silberfalken history had constantly fascinated the youngest, as much as the Order of the Phoenix was arousing everybody's respect nowadays. It was always the case ever since a group fought against a tyrant. Even if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was far from being the Führer!

'Und dritten, I will be inflexible about your apprenticeship, young novices...'

He turned on one of his heel while pulling the side of his large coat towards him.

'Because transfiguration is more than magic. It's art. It's manipulation of the being. Better still, it's manipulation of life and of inert. Transfiguration is the biggest and the most phenomenal of all magic.'

His wand slipped from his sleeve and went by itself into his knotty fingers. And in a nimble move towards his opposite shoulder, a magic white line burst out of his wand and hit the gargoyle on the top of a column. This one moved, shook its horned head before its eyelids cracked and opened to reveal two blazing brightness, like two igneous coals, staring one by one the taken aback by fascination students.

'But it is also, the most dangerous and the most difficult to master...'

The gargoyle's claws clenched on the stone and created cracks in the pillar. The crushed rock was falling into pieces. And the grey beast jumped from its pedestal and landed with a crash on the floor. Some students couldn't help themselves but scream and Maggie moved back in a jump, terrified. Kate was still paralysed in fear while the chimera approached her in an attack posture and clutched the table with its sharp claws like a wild cat hunting its prey. Her eyes were anchored in the horrible creature's ones, as burning as ashes.

'Transfiguration requires humility, will, ambition, a certain sense of adventure and inventiveness. But mostly and above all: courage...'

Professor Wolffhart turned his wrist, turning the gargoyle into a spotless dove that flew in the room under the stunned laughs and reassured applauses of the children. The teacher didn't blink in front of that joy while he reached out his hand towards the bird, which landed on his forefinger. The professor's look turned gloomy and the students calmed down.

'At your level, you're only cockroaches', he hissed. 'My education will consist in making you masters. I have seven years to teach you how to be your own masters... The subject I will teach you is not made to fight the evil, to save you from tiredness or suffering, to make your life easier. It allows you to build your own reality, your world, yourself, as you wish.'

His gaze turned to Kate's livid one. At that moment, an imperceptible grin appeared at the corner of his lips.

'Gut, I think you got the main part...' he breathed.

Immediately, the dove's form changed again and it turned into a real, dark and varnished English cane on which he leaned after having let it slip in his hand to the floor. A short, fearful silence passed through the assembly before he went on:

'Does anyone here have any common sense to list me the different levels in Transfiguration?'

The students looked at each other and lowered their heads on their desks, hoping to avoid their teacher's attention in case he would interrogate them.

'Niemand? No one?' insisted the professor a bit louder.

Seeing everyone turning one by one in a specific direction, Kate followed the move and saw a little hand raised in the back of the room.

'I'm listening, jüng Mann', Wolffhart invited him to talk by lowering his chin. 'What is your name?'  
'Beckett, sir. Emeric Beckett.'  
'Gut, we're listening to you, Herr Beckett.'

From her seat, Kate could barely see the young Emeric's discreet face she met at Madam Malkin's. He turned pale when he saw all those looks on him and stammered:

'Three, professor. There are three levels.'  
'Gut!' Wolffhart exclaimed, starting to scribble on the blackboard while leaning on his cane. 'And do you know which ones?'  
'Level one is transfiguration of objects. Number two is animals. And number three is... transfiguration of a human being.'  
'Ja, das ist sehr gut!'

Even though that was a compliment, the teacher didn't let it appear on his face, nor in his tone, while keeping on writing on the board, so hard his chalk was dangerously reducing.

'What is your house, Herr Beckett?'  
'Ravenclaw', he stammered.  
'Five points for Ravenclaw, then!'

He rubbed his hands, making chalk dust floating around, though it didn't stained his felt coat. Some students from Rowena's house expressed their moderate joy for the first points their house won.

As class went on, Kate listened very carefully, but she couldn't help but feel her neighbour's gaze in her back. Morgana McNair emitted a certain presence; intrusive and unpleasant... She felt relieved when a break was given to her, allowing her to listen to professor Wolffhart's powerful voice, who was interrogating his students on their basics. This respite ended when a little piece of parchment flew towards her and landed on her desk. Next to her, Maggie frowned in a silent question. Kate shrugged her shoulders and unfolded the secret message. The few words on it dumbfounded her:

 _"I know who you are and I know your father. I'd like to talk about it with you.  
_ _Meet me under the covered playground after classes."_

Taken aback, Kate stuck the parchment in her cape's pocket and granted Maggie a light smile to reassure her. After a disappointed gaze, her friend focused back on the lesson.

When the bell rang, Kate told her new friends she would catch them up at lunch in the Great Hall. They didn't hide their surprise or their suspicions. However, after some unsuccessful questions, they agreed to go without Kate:

'So be it...' grumbled Maggie, nearly annoyed. 'Stay there, alone!'  
'Oh, leave her be, she does what she wants after all!' Scarlett defended her, a big smile on her face.  
'See you later, then!'

The small group crossed the green courtyard, already full of the oldest students enjoying their break. In a corner, fourth years were discussing about their Pygmy puffs perched on their shoulders. The little fur balls, as soft as touching, had different colours and sometimes were stroking up a little high-pitched note while rubbing themselves against their owners' neck. Further, a first year Hufflepuff seemed to be selling some candies to older boorish boys.

'Kate Whisper?'

Hearing her name, the little girl flip-flopped, squeezing her bag against her chest. Seeing her reaction, Morgana McNair gave a hint of a smile, embarrassed:

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you...!'

Once her cold facet down, Morgana gave the impression of a fragile little girl, with her pale face and her glowing hair thoroughly tidied.

'You didn't!' lied Kate, a shaking smile on her lips.  
'I'm used to scare people', sighed Morgana. 'And I was worried you wouldn't wait for me.'  
'Why wouldn't I?'  
'You know, Gryffindors and Slytherins... All of these stories around houses, saying we're the bad guys...'  
'My father was a Slytherin, I'm not prejudiced against them', Kate reassured her, more relaxed.  
'I know...'

With a nod, Morgana invited her to walk in the sunny courtyard. She was moving forward, eyes on her black shoes.

'How do you know my father?' asked Kate.  
'My parents were in Slytherin with your dad. That's why your name is familiar to me...'  
'He rarely talks about his past life, at Hogwarts... Were they friends?'  
'Mates more than friends, actually. My father said yours was a loner.'  
'You seem to know a lot!'

Morgana slowed down and stared her in the face. Their eyes were so similar, they could have been sisters. But where Morgana's iris seemed as sharp as steel, Kate's ones kind of reminded the winter clouds.

'It's you who doesn't seem to know a lot about your father...'  
'What do you mean?' mumbled Kate, afraid of the turn of the conversation.

For a moment, Morgana stared at her. And Kate felt terribly naïve to know so little about her own dad compared to this girl she barely knew. Was he hiding something from her?

'There's no secret in my family; we talk about everything. Sometimes good things, sometimes less good. Whatever. We are a family of wizards; we must stay in touch about everything.'  
'I don't have any brothers or sisters, my mother's a Muggle and my father is very absorbed by his job. And with the recent events', pleaded Kate, sharply, 'I don't have occasions to talk about magic.'  
'I see... That's unfortunate. So you don't know anybody here?'  
'You mean by name?'

Morgana nodded.

'Not really', Kate grinned.  
'Stay with me at lunch, then... I'll tell you!'

See a Gryffindor girl – though wearing no colour – at the Slytherin table for lunch, provoked a lot of surprised reactions. Kate wasn't yet sensitive to remarks or value judgements. After all, she wasn't even a real Gryffindor... If it was the case, the Sorting Hat would have send her there instead of fantasize on a dream house... Deep down in her heart, she felt fully Slytherin. After all, the blood in her veins came from that house, it seemed normal to her to claim her place as a student here.

'So, do you know any Slytherin?'

Morgana pointed out a direction with her chin while chewing her chicken. Following the movement, Kate discreetly turned her head. Two young Slytherin girls were discussing while eating their plates. One of them was thin; her long platinum blonde hair was reaching her lower back and was swept back by a velvet headband at the top of her head. The other one had large cheekbones and feline eyes with ebony hair tied in a pony tail. They were both displaying a confident look on their expressionless faces, showing the worthy self-importance of aristocrats' daughters.

'That's Amy Rosier and Lawrence Prince... Amy is part of one of the twenty-eight descendants of the "sacred" Pure Bloods. Her uncle was killed by Mad-Eye Moody, the former Auror, but in return he mutilated him. You know his magical eye... It's because of that![1] As for Lawrence, she's a Pure Blood too, a distant cousin of the former Headmaster[2]... Don't go near them... they are... special...'

The little girl went on by reviewing the other tables.

'The Ledger twins fled in Australia during You-Know-Who's reign. This morning, Marvin, the boy, received a letter from his parents. Apparently, they're furious he ended in Slytherin...'

Marvin was sitting next to his twin, at the Ravenclaws' table and moving his meat with his fork, slumped on his arm. He seemed to have lost all his ardour and mischievousness he had the day before. Next to him, a young Ravenclaw was eating greedily.

'That's Dexter Doxmornt. His father works at the Ministry and is responsible for investigations of magical crime scenes... Over there, that's Joris Juffbiggles. His father was sent in Azkaban when he was younger for potentially dangerous spells and dark items dealing. And the son is on the same path, if you ask me...!'

Further, indeed, the student Kate saw earlier was – with impunity and discretion – still trading Nosebleed Nougats, coming from nowhere, with Chocolate Frogs cards. The young Hufflepuff had brown, greasy hair falling in front of his angular face, with two half-closed, lethargic eyes. At the same time, a boy walked through the alley and sat at the Gryffindors' table. Already pretty tall for his age, a determined look, his head proudly held and a seducing smile, even though he was a young boy. Kate recognized him for having noticed him at the ceremony of the repartition.

'What about him? That's Griffin...?'  
'Griffin Gale', completed Morgana with a fleeting smile. 'His brother is the new captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. A bunch of muscles, blonde hair and the smile of a prince charming. All the fifth years fight to spend time with him, even more now he fought the Hogwarts battle and girls see him as a hero! I think Griffin is kind of the same! That's family...!'  
'How can you know all these things?' marvelled Kate.  
'I have eyes and ears everywhere... That's certainly why I ended up in Slytherin! That's a family thing too! The only thing I really inherited...!'

They shared a laugh before Kate noticed the clay jar she wanted to take was empty.

'I'm going to go after some pumpkin juice, be right back...!'

Leaving her bench, she began to search for a filled carafe, sometimes checking it under her elders' noses. Kate was never lingering too long, embarrassed by their inquisitive looks. When she finally found a filled pitcher, she went back, proudly, to the Slytherins' table. But her natural clumsiness tricked her again when she walked on her robes, got entangled up in her own legs and fell flat down on her face, under the mocking laughs of her schoolmates. Kate watched, powerless, the pumpkin juice pours on the floor.

'Kate! Are you alright?'

Terry had rushed at her to help her get on her feet.

'Yes, I am, don't worry, I'm used to it!' she smiled, rubbing her painful knee.  
'I didn't know you were so clumsy!'  
'Now you do!'

They shared a smile before Terry casted a _Scourgify_ , making the pumpkin juice evaporate.

'Can I take advantage of the situation to tell you something?' he breathed in a low voice while taking her back to the Slytherins' table.  
'Yes?'  
'I don't trust this McNair... Don't talk to her too much...'  
'Why that?'

Terry gave her a serious look under his thick brown eyebrows.

'Did you see Hagrid's reaction at the ceremony of the repartition?! He literally jumped off his chair! This girl is not clear...'  
'How can you say that? You don't even know her!'  
'If I ask my father to look into his records, I'm sure he'll tell me her parents were Death Eaters! I'd bet my wand!'  
'And so what?' said Kate, annoyed. 'Even though it is the case, she is not!'  
'How do you know...' sighed Terry, as if his friend's reaction discouraged him.  
'She's nice with me! Unlike others, who give me funny looks since yesterday...!'

The young man bit his lip and slowed down his pace, seeing his friend wouldn't change her mind. He studied the young Morgana, alone, quiet and shy in front of her plate.

'Alright. Maybe you're right, after all. Perhaps I get carried away for nothing and I'm wrong about that girl. But be careful. Even if the war is over, the wizarding world is still fragile. I admit I don't know you well, but I know you are the only one in your situation.'  
'What does that mean? Do I look weak to you?'  
'I wouldn't go that far', he smiled. 'But I have this impression that you are... kind of a... blunder?'

Kate couldn't retort: Terry was quite right. Hogwarts corridors were full of mysteries that could turn out to be dangerous... She had to be careful, especially because of her family situation. If she was just an ordinary student, she could have gone beyond Terry's warning. However, she remembered her parents' advices and those last nightmarish months. Hogwarts may be the safest place to be, it still had some flaws, and some threats might find their way to her. All of this maybe was a nebulous constitution of "perhaps", but the slightest mistake could cost her much, Kate knew that. And for now, she was just an eleven year old girl, unable to use her wand properly, if it wasn't to accidentally take someone's eye out!

'Yes, I am', she half-admitted. 'I try to connect with anyone I can... Look, I don't even have a house...!'

Terry shook his head and corrected her:

'No you're wrong, Kate, you're in all the houses at the same time! That's even better!'  
'I... I didn't see things that way.'  
'Your family isn't reduced in a single house. Your family, it's Hogwarts...'

The first days of classes passed by, during which Kate met one by one her teachers and the subject she would attend during her whole scholarship. But from her point of view, they only were a failure after another: she almost burnt her cape when a Blast-Ended Screwt charged her, she made her cauldron blow up when she prepared a simple wart treatment ointment, she fell off her broomstick while she was slowly flying thirty-nine inches above the ground and she killed the dittany germ when she confused the acid jar with the watering can. Behind her back and to her greatest displeasure, Kate became the attraction of her class. Only professor Longbottom showed patience and kindness to her:

'You remember me at your age!'

Professor Longbottom immediately captured the attention of his students at the very first minutes of his lessons. Not because they were passionate about Herbology, but because of his thrilling stories about his fight against Voldemort during the Hogwarts battle. And in order to complete their fascination, Neville showed, under their stunned look, the magical Galleon each DA member possessed. It was a true relic to date.

The mystery around the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's identity remained in its entirety; the classes only started on Monday. Each first year had to bide his time all the weekend. Some of them thought it would be a war hero. Others, a bit more utopian, talked about Harry Potter himself.

On the Saturday afternoon, a cold wind coming with a slight rain, dissuaded the students to go outside. Some of them locked themselves in their rooms, playing or reading. Kate wasn't any different: daydreaming on her bed, while SirSulkington was taking a nap at her feet, its tail swinging in the air like a pendulum. On the bed nearby, Scarlett and Suzanna, sitting cross-legged, were focused on a magical cards game where animated printings were duelling with hardback swords and throwing sharp squares and explosive clubs at each other. As for Moira and Maggie; first one was working in the common room, annoyed by the cards' high-pitched screams and the second one just went out, without telling them where she was going. Since the Transfiguration classes, Kate neglected her to stay with Morgana as her classmate neighbour. Hurt in her pride, Maggie avoided Kate, except for the usual verbal conventions.

A slight beating of wings drew her attention: a small paper butterfly seeped under the door and flew towards her, before landing into her hands. Curious about the sender's identity, Kate hastily unfolded the parchment, certain about the fact that it wasn't a first year; they weren't experienced enough to make such spells.

 _"I'm at the library. Meet me at the table in the back as soon as you can.  
_ _Hermione Granger."_

As surprised as she was cheerful, Kate jumped off her bed, waking up her cat which meowed with astonishment before it spit, unhappy. The young girl got up in haste, nearly fell when she walked on her own foot, grabbed her colourless cape and scarf and left the room without saying a word to Scarlett and Suzanna, who were monopolized by an epic electric spades battle. Kate chose to carefully walk down the stairs in order to avoid falling again on the steps; however, she quickly lost her way in the maze of the school. On the way, she met Peeves, who was throwing burning balls into a student's half-opened bag, too busy talking to notice it was going up in flames. Kate took advantage of the situation to avoid the poltergeist's attention. The library was nearly empty: a week after the first day the students would rather enjoy their break than do some abstruse readings as _Funny Arithmancy_ , _Twisted spells for insane wizards_ or _Desperate Housewitch_ _–_ _housework spells for manic depressive witches_. Kate crossed the big dark library under Madam Pince's searching look, who took more care of her books than her reputation. The young wizards were always looked badly because of their nasty habits of using books as pillows, to hide their scheming or their rather feeble interest for their contents, on which they drawn animated fellows. Their main attraction being the illustration of Severus Snape turning into a pink-horned slug, in the book of magical creatures at _The ways of reproduction of the Nogtails_ chapter. Hermione was there, at the table, busy, collapsing under the books. Kate had to cough several times before she noticed her presence.

'Oh, Kate!' she exclaimed in a low voice, extracted from her reading. 'Come here, sit...'

She tapped the chair next to her and the little girl obeyed, impressed to be so close of such a hero.

'I made a lot of researches about your house... Shatterfly...'  
'All of this... These are your researches?!' choked Kate, estimating the number of books piled up on the table. 'Researches about me?'  
'You think... I was naïve to think I could find the answers in _Hogwarts, a history_. I would have known. I've read it several times.'  
'The whole book?!'

Hermione ignored her remark and went on:

'I found no reference of Shatterfly. It is mentioned nowhere. So I got into the records to check if there hadn't been a similar case before. It had never been reported that a student had been sorted into a fifth house. I'm trying now to find a lead in the writings that go back to the founders' days. Everything should go from there... If there is a house, there must be a founder behind it. A wizard who scheduled that in the Middle Ages.'  
'And can't we consider the Sorting Hat is old and doesn't know what it is saying?'  
'It's magical, controlled by a very powerful enchantment', enlightened Hermione. 'Even though it possesses half of a consciousness, it can't get mad... That's just impossible. No, I'd rather admit there is a mystery behind all that.'

Kate nodded before grabbing the first book she could get her hand on, soberly entitled _Founders_ , and took the initiative to back up her elder. She read again the history of the four founders, the one professor Binns told them during the introductory course, putting to sleep nearly half of the classroom. Yet, nothing could have confirmed the hypothesis of a fifth founder's existence. Nothing, not even the slightest usable lead. Gradually losing her motivation, Kate sunk into her thoughts and her present issues. That's when she decided to ask for Hermione's vast knowledge:

'Hermione?'  
'Yes, what is it?'  
'Do you know... Morgana McNair?'

Immediately, the young woman tensed up and turned towards the little girl, like if she was shocked she could ask that kind of question so innocently.

'I don't know _her_...'  
'But?'

Kate had noticed the particular reaction the evocation of her new friend's name provoked. And she wanted to know why.

'I know her father. I've already seen him...'  
'Who is he?'  
'Walden McNair', swallowed Hermione. 'He was... a Death Eater.'

An imperceptible shiver ran through Kate's spine.

'What did he become after... Voldemort's death?'  
'I don't know... Walden McNair used to work at the Ministry of Magic as an executioner, at the committee for the disposal of dangerous creatures. I stopped him from killing Buckbeak, Hagrid's hippogriff...'  
'That's why Hagrid reacted this way when Morgana had been called under the Sorting Hat?'  
'Perhaps... Why do you ask?'

Too honest to lie to the face of a hero like Hermione, Kate told her the entire problem. After she listened carefully, she laughed and answered:

'During my whole scholarship, I had never had any link with a Slytherin, except rivalry. I can't conceive such a friendship, from my point of view... Don't misunderstand me... I mean, it's not impossible but it seems absurd to me that a Gryffindor could be friend with the child of a Death Eater. It's as unlikely as imagining myself with Draco Malfoy!'  
'I'm not a true Gryffindor', reminded Kate, pragmatic.  
'That's true... You know, I think nobody should judge someone because of his parents. I personally suffered those kinds of judgements, despising my Muggle parents.'  
'I know... I have the impression I am the only one to think this way.'  
'Then you're better than everybody else!'

Kate felt so touched by Hermione's compliment she turned bright red. Hermione smiled at her in a kind and reassuring way. Kate's relieved sigh lost itself in the yellowed pages of the book she slowly closed.

'I sometimes have the impression I don't belong here', she admitted, stammering. 'I don't have a house, I can't use magic properly and I realise I know nothing about that world...'  
'You know, Kate...'

Hermione settled on her chair, crossing her long legs.

'I have a friend who, before he arrived at Hogwarts, didn't even know the existence of the wizarding world. During eleven years, he lived in a cupboard, away from magic. And the day of the ceremony, he stayed a long time under the Sorting Hat and asked him not to sort him into Slytherin. This friend's name is now making the front page of every Daily Prophet's editions for three months now... Harry Potter.'

Hearing this name had the effect of a Petrificus Totalus on Kate. How, by Merlin, could she be compared to the Chosen One, and moreover from his best friend's mouth.

'Except... I'm not Harry Potter!' she stammered, embarrassed.  
'Lucky for you', she laughed. 'What I am trying to say is that your integration doesn't depend on where you come from. Whoever you are, Hogwarts is your home and the friends you'll make will be your family. You mustn't despair so much.'  
'I-I don't worry about Hogwarts... But I suck at magic! Maybe I am a Squib!'  
'You are lucky to have excellent teachers this year, who will be there to help you. Besides, if you received your letter, it's because you have a certain potential.'

Hermione Granger looked so mature, so wise, Kate found herself stupid to moan like that. It wasn't worthy for a war hero to hear the unfounded complaints of a little girl while she had been through much worse misadventures. If she didn't count those months, locked up in her cellar...

* * *

[1] Evan Rosier is mentionned in one of the Harry Potter books. He's Severus Snape's friend and did, indeed, fought Mad-Eye Moody in a dreadful fight that cost Moody his eye and Rosier his life.

[2] Prince is the maiden name of Severus Snape's mother.


	4. Pumpkin juice

Before starting this new chapter, I wanted to thank Ielenna again for this wonderful story. You'll see as chapters will go by, that not only did she think about a story, she also created a whole new world and extended the one Rowling created. She made me see that there was more than only a story about Harry Potter. There was a complete universe, a complex universe. She thought about every detail of it. So much that I started to love her characters as if they were real, as if they were my friends. I, now, shiver with them when danger comes, laugh with them when they hang out or tease each other, cry with them when they're despaired...

I completely fell in love with LMA, and it's becoming stronger with each new chapter, each new riddle, each new year of little Kate.

So a big THANK YOU to Ielenna, for this tremendous adventure!

Also, thank you to Emi, for her wonderful drawings of the story (you can find them on DeviantArt, her name is Tokio92 : gallery/52931114/Commissions **but watch out for the spoilers!** Drawings are named after the chapters so you can only look at the ones you already read if you want, or watch all of them if you don't care)  
Thank you Emi for your beautiful art work and for your lovely comments! They make my day each time I read them!

 **And now: enjoy your reading!**

* * *

4\. Pumpkin juice

To the greatest disappointment of the first years, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher didn't meet their craziest dreams' criteria. It was an old stunted witch, with an Irish background – which was noticeable by her accent, her pale skin and her impressive, dull red, curly hair –, a yet intact smile and whose name was Miss O'Joovens. The decoration of her classroom was reminiscent of those Muggles' rites consisting in calling demons. Purple tapestries were adorned with embroidered golden pentacles. Moving items, in glass or clay, had been suspended along the staircase banister that led to her office and an animated skull was watching the students from one of the shelves. And, unlike everybody thought, her lessons were as thrilling as a horned toads' race, despite this new teacher's sympathy. But what everybody didn't know, was that Miss O'Joovens was only here as the theory teacher, not the referent. And that the teacher in charge of practical classes hadn't presented himself yet...

The surprise was considerable, a rainy Monday morning of October. First years were waiting at their desks, taking out their supplies for the lesson: parchments, quills and ink bottles. First thing they saw was that the heavy red felt curtains had been opened. They were used to the darkness of the room when it was Miss O'Joovens who was in charge; she lit the classroom with only gloomy black candles levitating like the ones in the Great Hall. Whispers went through the room where all four houses were. Kate sat next to Morgana, like she did for several weeks now, each time she had the occasion to. She had to stand up to Maggie's offended look, the same one she was giving her since the start of the school year. Why did she blame her that much to prefer Morgana's presence, much more pleasant and comprehensive than that arrogant and selfish bitch? Kate answered to her black look by a nod, arranging her stuff on her desk.

'Something's wrong?' worried Morgana, noticing her friend's haggard face.  
'Nothing, don't worry...'

The lateness of their professor made the ambient hubbub to brew. Some took advantage of it to have fun, send parchments balls or cast small mischievous spells. Suddenly, the classroom door opened abruptly.

'S-sorry, I'm late!'

The young man crossed the room with haste while pulling off his jacket, under the dumfounded looks of the students. Everyone had stopped their games or conversations, their stunned eyes fixed on the newcomer who, with a skilful movement of his wand, sent his coat to hang on the coat rack. Then, he turned towards the children assembly, straightened his rounded glasses with an embarrassed smile, before clapping his palms, not knowing what to say in those circumstances:

'Good... I think, considering my late, it's useless to introduce myself and...'

A feverish hand raised in the middle of the astounded students and the young teacher allowed him to talk with a nod of his chin:

'The Daily Prophet said you wanted to be an Auror, not a teacher! Is that normal?'  
'I do', he answered, clearing his throat. 'I'm studying to become an Auror, that's why I'm really busy outside my teaching schedule. But professor McGonagall proposed me to teach you Defence Against the Dark Arts in parallel, at least for a year, the time for Hogwarts to recover from the recent events and to organize afterwards. From what she said, I would be... in the best position to do that. I accepted, under the condition that I would only teach practical, which is the essential of this subject. Otherwise, it wouldn't have any interest, if you ask me...'

The students struggled to compose themselves when the hero of their world was standing in front of them. Harry Potter himself. Far from the preconceived ideas, or his representation on the Chocolate Frog card Kate won in the Hogwarts Express, because the heroic warrior that got rid of England's greatest threat seemed so much uncomfortable, shuddering about the idea of saying something wrong in front of twenty eleven year old students... Whispers started to become louder. As for Kate, she was staring, fascinated, at the young man. How such a common boy could have stand up to an entire army of dark wizards his whole adolescence? That's when the last months' settlement took on, in her mind, the aspects of a true miracle instead of a serious problem's simple solving... Harry Potter was, for her, the proof that anybody can change the world.

After the tsunami of redundant questions, the new professor spoke:

'I think that each and every one of you have been, more or less, touched by Voldemort's return during these last years. Perhaps, some of you went through terrible things or, on the contrary, took refuge in some place safe. I am, indeed, here to teach you new things, but I think you already have things to teach to yourselves, to teach me. Also, I'd like to give you the occasion to share about this taboo subject, which will help me to know you better, as well as your expectations about the program. I will also know what you learnt about the dark arts. Your real-life experience of the situation when the wizarding world was giving in under the yoke of dark magic...'

Immediately, a wave of reprimands raised in the room. The students were afraid of judgements, didn't want to reopen old wounds. Harry Potter tried to calm them down, until a hand rose in the middle of the assembly, making everyone quiet. A little girl, her hair gathered in a long braid, spoke up. Kate remembered her, like everyone else, as Juno Nightingal, the girl who cried at the repartition, tearful for being sorted in Slytherin.

'Last year, I came back home one night, after playing outside with my little brother. My mom was gone. We found ourselves alone, just the two of us, and the house had been destroyed. I never knew my father, who was a wizard and left a long time ago to study chimeras in Greece. My mom is a Muggle-born. And the Death Eaters took her for a trial. They seized her wand. They humiliated her, while I was alone with my brother, at home... I didn't witness the Death Eaters' spells. I don't know dark magic. But I know their consequences now... And I want to learn to protect myself against it and to fight it, as I wanted to, back then, to help my mom...'

Her story touched a lot of students who followed her example. Edgar Vince told he assisted to Diagon Alley's devastation. Irwin Peakes had to go to the children's school pension for Muggles to protect himself. For the first time since she met her, Hygie Smethwyck, the mute little girl who was reading all day long, spoke up. Her father told her the Death Eaters rounded up in the St Mungo's Hospital, searching for Muggle-borns or Harry Potter's supporters. They had to hide a big part of their patients in a magical secret room behind a painting, preventing them to provide the best care, sometimes in difficult conditions. Griffin Gale told about the feat of his brother, who heroically saved a young witch from a Death Eater's attack in the middle of a London street. Terry recounted about his father's role in the Order of the Phoenix since the beginning of the war and his participation in the final battle of Hogwarts. As for the Ledger twins, they related together their trip in Australia in order to flee Voldemort's influence.  
Then, it came to Morgana's turn to talk about her very particular experience:

'I was in contact with dark magic. I saw it, but not like the others. Because my father is a Death Eater.'

She had said those words with so much gut, that everybody tensed up, gobsmacked. Harry Potter himself was taken aback.

'I know my father committed huge mistakes. He killed innocent people, he casted unforgivable curses, he went to Azkaban. I know the basics of dark magic because he taught me. I heard about the Dark Lord, in good terms, without having seen him ever. But that came from my father's mouth. I saw the disasters. All the bad things around him, around me. If I live with the fact that I am his daughter, I don't approve what he's done... I'm not responsible of his acts... And I've been hurt a lot. So, if I know dark spells, I'd like to learn in return, the ones that can protect from them. I want to prove to people that I'm not like him... And that I'm capable of good things.'  
'Well...!'

Harry had a slight cough, while Morgana was fixing him with her big grey eyes, as incisive as sharp blades.

'I think you're very brave for your age, and very mature', declared Harry more seriously. 'You went through very difficult things... And detach yourself from your father's principles is a proof of daring few would be capable of. From the time that you're determined, there's nothing you can't do...'

Few were the professors that allowed themselves to declaim such compliments. From the Chosen One, that kind of assertion was worth a lot of Galleons… Then, Harry Potter's gaze turned towards Morgana's quiet and inscrutable neighbour: Kate was fiddling with the end of her quill, her eyes down.

'What about you?' he addressed her friendly. 'Do you have something to tell us?'

Kate bit her lips and scanned the room with a slow look, while still keeping her quill between her shaking fingers.

'My mother is a Muggle. And my father... was constantly chased by the Death Eaters, until last June. He was in Slytherin with them when he was at Hogwarts and refused to become an ally back then, when Voldemort was at the height of his powers, before his spell turned against him. At school already, they were hunting him like an animal… And when Voldemort came back, they promised to kill him, because he betrayed them. He was on their list, like you were. But it wasn't in Voldemort's interests; just an old revenge story. They destroyed my house, twice. They burnt it. They killed my uncle and my aunt. They tortured my cousin, who is at St Mungo's now, in a coma. To protect ourselves, my mother and I stayed locked up in the cellar of an old abandoned house, day and night, while my father was taking care of tracking down and taking away the Death Eaters. I remember a night when they turned up at the house. My father was there and he fought alone, against three of them. My mother was holding me in her arms, her hand on my mouth so the Death Eaters couldn't hear my screams. I saw the lights under the door. I heard the furniture explode. Then they smashed the cellar's door and a Death Eater came in. I would have received the flash of green light, if my mother didn't tackle me… I found myself in such a terrifying magic duel; I was only hearing my heart racing. Until a Death Eater took my mother and pointed his wand to her throat, in front of my father… Everything went so fast and I was so scared, I didn't want to see this… But I remember the Death Eater, lying on the floor, not moving… He was dead… I can see my mother in tears again, kneeling in front of my father whose hands were covered in blood, his face full of wounds. She was begging him, because he wanted to make us forget. About everything. My father nearly walked out of my life, that day, by erasing himself of my memory. He wanted to keep us safe and sound, because he knew the Death Eaters would come after us to make him more vulnerable. Today, my family is reunited, happy and I'm finally at Hogwarts. I kept my father, but I also kept the memory of all that. Of this war that almost killed me… Because I was the daughter of an innocent man.'

Kate was sobbing while saying those last words, her eyes full of tears. Further, Maggie's eyes were watery; looking at her friend's reddened face.

'I don't want to avenge myself', sniffed loudly Kate. 'I don't want to defend myself. I'd rather have dark magic out of this world. No wizard should use it for evil purposes, against other people, just to be superior. To be honest, my heart hurts to have a subject called "Defence Against the Dark Arts". Because it shouldn't exist… And even less, be taught to children.'

A deafening silence fell on the class, serious and quiet. Affected by his young student's speech, Harry Potter walked in a slow pace towards her, his hands in his Muggle clothes' pockets.

'Then think this lesson is only here in prevention. So you can all be able, later, to eradicate every evil forces, if they come back.'

Then he talked to the whole confused class:

'You're the future wizards of this world. The future Ministers, the future Aurors, the future professors. Even though the memory is painful, you have to remember and be able to keep peace. Of course, it shouldn't exist… But wizards, humans, are unpredictable. It would be showing blind trust to believe they're fundamentally good…'

Harry Potter turned and went back to his desk.

'Furthermore, don't think these classes are there only to know how to protect from dark wizards only', he added while passing his fingers through his jet-black hair. 'This world is full of creatures that don't apply human logic. Goblins, ogres, elves, dragons… Don't think you could make them change their mind about you by telling them about kindness and mercy! You have to be able to face them, to protect yourself. And this again, to preserve peace in the wizarding world.'

In contrast with the beginning of classes, the professor was talking with ease and conviction: he felt at home in this subject. Harry Potter maybe was young and inexperienced, but something was certain: he would make an excellent teacher.

* * *

As days passed by, the other students' attitudes with Kate changed radically. Their taunts ran dry and let place to an accommodating, pleasant sympathy. She wasn't the laughing stock anymore, since she told about her story of the last few months that moved her whole year. When Kate was accidentally breaking a phial in Potions, there always was someone to help her repair it, instead of parodying her clumsiness to make others laugh. One day, as she was unsteady on her feet, balancing in the big staircase after she had walk again on her cape, she had been caught at the last minute by young Griffin. And Kate had to admit she was beginning to like her clumsiness and she should take advantage of it, if it helped her to have such a beautiful smile from the most appreciated boy in her class. Also, one rainy morning, when Kate went alone in the Great Hall, Maggie – who didn't say a word to her for a long time – met her up. The young girl with golden curls granted her with an embarrassed and clumsy smile before giving her a package in a brown wrapping paper. Kate's suspicious look travelled a moment between the little parcel and Maggie's contorted face. She could tell that a smile wasn't something Maggie was used to do! Maybe she trained for days in front of her mirror! Kate answered by a polite grin before taking the gift:

'Is that for me?'  
'No, it's for the bogey-man, you silly goose…'

When she realised what she just said, she swallowed, embarrassed. Nevertheless, Kate laughed while unpacking her gift, like she was more amused than hurt. Abashedly sliding her hands between her thighs, Maggie sighed, relieved she didn't have to apologize; that would be something way harder for her than smile!

'A box of Sugared Butterfly Wings?' exclaimed Kate, delighted.  
'You really are gifted for asking such perceptive questions, by the name of stupefied owls!'  
'How did you know they were my favourite candies? How did you get them?'  
'Hmmm, an owl to my parents, an order and it's in the cauldron! And I may be a bitch; I'm able to observe, when needed!'

Yet, Kate didn't open immediately the painted box to set free the sugared insects. She put it on the table and made it turn several times with her fingertips.

'Are you trying to buy me?'  
'More like trying to be forgiven', qualified Maggie, disrupted to have to make concessions. 'I really acted like a pest... I didn't know you went through all of that. And I'm sorry I said your father's job was like exterminating cockroaches...'

She punctuated her words with a personal remark:

'See! I also have an excellent memory!'

Then, her face became serious again as she went on with her excuses:

'Also, you had perfectly the right to go with McNair in classes. I'm sorry I was jealous for nothing. I'm acting like a selfish and arrogant rich girl. I never really told you but, when I first met you, I was happy to know you; and to be with you in Gryffindor. Even if, technically, it's not your real house! I thought you dropped me because you were really mad at me while I was the first person you talked to, and that was me who saved you from drowning when you nearly fell in the lake on the first day! I like you, Kate, you're great. Not very smart but, well... Maybe that was the reason I was up worried to see you with McNair and not with me.'

Touched by her roommate's words, Kate blushed before she began to attack her Sugared Butterfly Wings' wrapping. When the box opened, a spotless little butterfly went out, beating its crystallized wings. Then, Kate approached her face and gently blew on the candy, which followed the draught, fluttering towards Maggie, who delicately caught it. The two little girls shared a smile of complicity while Maggie shoved the butterfly in her mouth without further ceremony.

Supported by her friends – and particularly by her colleagues Gryffindor – in learning practical magic in order to master her spells, Kate applied herself and tried twice as hard without giving up. And yet, nothing worked out. Every try was failing and nothing was happening, in the best of cases. But explosion being the most frequent result, students got used to see the Gryffindor first years training Kate on her spells in the courtyard, come rain or shine. Nobody despaired seeing the little girl cast a proper spell.

* * *

Autumn came at Hogwarts. Students started to favour common rooms to covered courtyards or cold corridors. A mist was settling a bit more everyday above the surface of the lake, like a prowling spirit. Kate started to find her feet in this school she finally got into as such. With Morgana's unquestionable help, she managed to recognize the faces of the different personalities of Hogwarts, or to know better about her schoolmates. And so, she could recognize, in the group of seventh years, the famous Ginny Weasley. Everybody knew the kind of relation she had with Harry Potter, and rumours were circulating now that the young man with the scar had his professor's chair, even though not often here. Kate spotted Luna Lovegood too, very recognizable with her turnip earrings. She was bearing, for the new season, a scarf of a doubtful fuchsia colour, which was animating every twenty steps and moving on its own into the air. The young woman maintained that it was chasing Wrackspurts very well since she noticed they were a lot less in Hogwarts than last years.

Kate learnt to know a bit more her Gryffindor roommates, other than Maggie. Moira was totally living with the fact she was dwarfish and, on the top of that, she was strong-willed with a sharp sense of repartee, particularly with her elders. Encouraged by professor Flitwick, who proudly considered her as his best student, Moira was excelling in Charms and was taking care of Kate most of the time during practical lessons. A dwarf girl, barking orders to another student who was suffering from difficulties with her exploding wand, was a show a lot of people enjoyed. Scarlett, shier than her classmates but of outstanding kindness, was showing a particular gift for the art of potions. For her age, the young girl was already very organized, loathing the slightest mess in the room she was sharing with the four other girls. She found her opposite in Suzanna, particularly messy and not very diligent in her homework. It thus became frequent to see Scarlett, raging, tidying Suzanna's stuffs in the middle of such an apocalyptic upheaval, that it looked more probable a drunken dragon went there. All of this, under SirSulkington's searching look, perched on the top of Kate's four-poster bed.

Halloween revelries getting closer, big pumpkins with monstrous faces had been installed in the Great Hall. Students were excited in front of the animated skeletons that were pacing up and down the school, giving out candies; the youngest being more amazed than the oldest, used to the annual entertainments. The evening of the 31st of October, the first years were becoming impatient, even though some girls showed reluctance after some elders told them real bats would be flying upon the tables at diner. And it wouldn't be abnormal to see some of them hanging on their hair! The Gryffindor girls were the first to come at their table, enthusiastically commenting on the decorations. Flying pumpkins were punctuating the stormy ceiling. The organ of the Transfiguration room had been moved to the professor's stage and was playing a far from reassuring background music to complete the evening theme. Nearly-Headless Nick had taken advantage of this musical moment to invite the Grey Lady to share a dance. Gradually, the students joined their respective tables. And when Kate saw Morgana sitting alone at the Slytherin table, she apologized to her friends and went to her, to chat a little before the festivities opening.

'Are you alone?' asked sadly Kate, taking place on the bench in front of Morgana.  
'Juno and Calypso are not ready yet', smiled Morgana. 'As for Lawrence and Amy, I don't like to be with them.'  
'You don't know any boy from your house?'  
'Boys are stupid at this age... I'd rather be alone. Or with you. Do you want some pumpkin juice?'  
'Gladly!' accepted Kate, holding out her cup. 'Thank you! You know... I don't know the Gryffindor boys either. Only by names. But I never really tried to talk to them.'  
'You should, they seem nice!'  
'Only if you do it too!'  
'Deal!'

They both high-fived to strike their deal. Then, they saw the first professors coming in and taking place on their seats.

'Well! That's stunning, Wolffhart changed his scarf!'

Indeed, it was an exceptional fact; the transfiguration teacher, as stoical and intimidating as usual, his hands behind his back, had exchanged his scarlet scarf with an orange one, fitting the pumpkins' colour. This change was almost hilarious.

'And Harry Potter is not here', regretted Kate, noticing the eternally empty chair of their professor who never occupied it.  
'Did you make it up with Maggie?' asked Morgana, changing suddenly the subject.

Kate nearly choked on her pumpkin juice.

'Y-Yes! I mean...'  
'Hey, I didn't ask you to explain yourself! That's great if you're friends again!'  
'Really? You don't mind?'  
'Why would I?' wondered Morgana, frowning her eyebrows.  
'I-I don't know...!'  
'You do what you want! As long as you don't put her first, I don't see where the problem is!'

She said those last words in a comforting smile which relieved Kate.

'You should go back to your seat before the Slytherins decide to throw you fire balls...!'  
'You're right', hurried Kate, looking with a little reassured eye some sixth years who were sizing her up with a rebellious look. 'Enjoy your meal, see you later!'

Kate went back to her table in small furtive steps and jumped over the bench while the Great Hall was still filling with students. She arrived in the middle of a discussion between her roommates, very focused on betting who, between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, would win the first Quidditch match of the season, next week. Minutes passed by, when Kate got a sudden overwhelming urge...

'Oh oh... I should have gone to the toilet before coming here!' she castigated herself.

She estimated the assembly: some latecomers were still missing and she decided to take advantage of it to make off, the time to go to the closest toilet.

'I can come with you if you want!' suggested Maggie, while getting up too.  
'I'm going to the toilet', notified Kate, 'not in the Forbidden Forest. It's nice of you, but I can go alone!'  
'Oh, you'd be surprised! It's Halloween! Who knows? You might bump into a troll...!'

At her friend's taken aback look, Maggie answered by a semi-despaired one.

'My poor friend... You obviously don't know a lot about the history of Hogwarts!'

The two girls hightailed, weaving in and out between their elders who were blocking the way to the entrance.

'I hope we won't miss McGonagall's speech!' worried Kate rushing about in the toilet and running in a cabin. 'She'll be furious if we arrive after everyone!'  
'If you ask me, I'm much more afraid to embarrass myself in front of everyone than of McGonagall's look', put forward Maggie, behind the door.  
'Do you think she has already turned students into frogs, like Wolffhart?'  
'Stop speaking and hurry up!'

Suddenly, a terrible din coming from the Great Hall broke the silence, accompanied with high-pitched screams. Maggie jumped, while Kate went out of the cabin, anguished.

'What's happening?' she stammered.  
'They probably opened the Halloween ceremony... We should hurry, before we miss everything!'

The girls ran again on the way back, their capes floating behind them. Nevertheless, a panicked, agog background noise was persisting as they were coming closer to the Great Hall. In the distance, they noticed some students were evacuating the room in maximum panic, while multiple detonations were still resounding.

'We shouldn't stay here!' shouted out Maggie, as white as a snowy owl, while catching Kate's sleeve.  
'But, the girls! They're still in there!' she shouted back, trying to make her let go of her arm to continue her race.  
'They're going to get out! Don't go it could be dangerous!'  
'I don't care!'

Kate edged her way into the scattering, without anyone telling her to run away. Her heart was racing in her chest and she was thinking about what could have start this total collapse. Did something simply degenerate? Did a troll appear through the service door? Or worse, surviving detractors, dark magic supporters who came back to avenge themselves...

Kate finally made her way through and got into the Great Hall, which was unrecognizable. The walls and tables were covered in a flask, fibrous and orange material. Benches had been knocked down in the students' rackety run. Some poor souls were taking refuge under tables, hoping not to be noticed by hundreds of flying pumpkins, as brisk and violent as Bludgers. They were looking for new heads, charging at their targets, their sculpted faces animated with a high-pitched evil laugh, before exploding in a powerful orange spray. And their shells, in pieces, were spurting out towards the students. Brave students had stayed to fight, while professors were applying to neutralize the enchanted pumpkins.

Confused by such a chaos, Kate didn't notice immediately the pumpkin that was charging her. When a spell resounded at the last second:

' _Finite!_ '

Straight away, the pumpkin slowed down into the air and its face liquefied, before it crashed on the floor at Kate's feet – who was transfixed by surprise –, its flesh exploding on her legs.

'Merlin's beard, what are you still doing here?!' raged Hermione while rushing towards her, her messy hair covered in orange porridge.

However, before she could have time to say anything, Kate opened her mouth, thunderstruck, when noticing five new pumpkins charging at them in a collective evil laugh. With battle-hardened reflexes, Hermione flip-flopped while pulling Kate behind her in order to interpose and with a large move of her wand, sent the pumpkins to crash against a wall.

'Go, right now!' ordered Hermione.

The young woman went back to the battle with the pumpkin army, while Kate, chilling out, scanned the Great Hall in a brief look. Hiding under the red and gold table, now buried under orange, dripping with juice fibres, Suzanna and Scarlett were crawling on their hands and knees towards the door, while Moira was chasing away the pumpkins with skilful moves of her wand, intoning spells with energy.

'Kate!'

Called out, the little girl ran towards the Slytherins' table, under which Morgana had taken refuge, curled up, holding her wrist. Kate hastily kneeled next to her friend, letting herself slide on the stone floor.

'What happened?!' she shouted in the racket.  
'The pumpkins have gone crazy! They have started to attack students! I have fallen in the crush and hurt my wrist...! I think it's broken!'  
'Come here, I'll help you get out!'

Catching her shoulder, Kate pulled her from under the table and brought her with her. The two kids scampered towards the exit, hoping not to be spotted by the possessed pumpkins. But they didn't succeed and one of them whirled on itself in a satisfied snigger before charging at them.

'Kate!' warned Morgana in a big shout while the pumpkin was approaching more and more.

With a long glance, Kate estimated the distance that was separating them from the door. It was too far. So, she took a deep breath of courage and, plunging her hand into her witch cape's pocket, seized her wand, while Morgana was squeezing up against her, terrorized and unable to hold her weapon with her hurt wrist.

' _Finite!_ ' shouted Kate.

The pumpkin exploded in a mix of sparks, red smoke and vegetable flesh, like a wet firework. The conclusion might not be the one she expected, but Kate congratulated herself in succeeding to put their opponent down with magic. But she lowered her sight very fast when another pumpkin charged her and took her wand between its orange teeth.

'Give it back!' snarled Kate, pulling on the red twisted handle.

But the pumpkin was harpooning it, like a dog with its bone; so hard that, gradually, Kate felt her feet leaving the floor. And before Morgana could catch her friend's clothes with her able-bodied hand, the pumpkin flew through the air with the speed of a geyser. Kate's terrorized scream resounded in the Great Hall for a long time while the pumpkin was giving her a rough ride accelerating and making vertiginous bends. Her hand was still clung on her wand while the other one was hitting the pumpkin in the eye, hoping to make it release its catch. In front of this top-notch show, students and professors didn't manage immediately to help Kate, because the risk of hurting her while aiming at the pumpkin was too big.

'Give it back you... you vegetable!' Kate kept yelling while the pumpkin was getting higher and higher in narrow swirls.

It immobilised in midair, above the floating candles and in the middle of the fake stars, when Kate hit it in the jaws. Then, the pumpkin's eyelids squinted with malice and the shiver provoked by its devious laugh vibrated in the white wood of the wand Kate was holding tightly. When she understood its maleficent intentions, she opened wide alarmed eyes.

'No, no, no!' she begged in a heart-breaking supplication while beating her legs in the air. 'Don't let go, don't let go! Please, don't let go!'

The pumpkin turned a deaf ear and released gradually its jaw. Powerless, Kate saw her wand slip through its fleshy teeth, before taking a nose dive from the ceiling, that was quickly receding into the distance, her arms and legs up. Her frightened scream turned into an astonished hiccup when she felt herself rebound on a soft surface, like a mattress, instead of crashing against one of the tables. The professors hurried around the wavering table.

'Miss Whisper!' said professor Longbottom, alarmed, helping her get on her feet while professor Flitwick was chasing the surrounding pumpkins. 'Are you ok?'  
'I am', she stammered, overwhelmed. 'But... how...?'

She felt the pasty surface that was once wood.

'A child's play, Fräulein...' articulated professor Wolffhart while thoroughly arranging his orange scarf, like if not seeing that his beautiful black felt coat was covered in pumpkin juice. 'Now clear off before I decide to turn you into a pumpkin too, schnell!'

* * *

When students and professors overcame the six hundred and eighty-three pumpkins that had spread panic during the Halloween festivities, those who had ran came back gradually in the Great Hall to help cleaning and restoring the decoration.

'Well, well', sighed Suzanna, collecting her thoughts. 'I don't know what doxy has bit them, but I will never see a pumpkin the same way again!'  
'In any case, we exploded so much of them, the house elves can make pumpkin pies for two months!' giggled little Moira, her hair weirdly placed.  
'Did it happen like that? All of a sudden?' asked Kate.  
'Yes, they have gone all crazy', whispered Scarlett, peering at the other students who were talking about the incident too.

Moira pulled on Maggie's sleeve to draw her attention; the latter answered her with a haughty look.

'Lucky for Miss Spoiled, she didn't get her dress dirty with mashed pumpkin!' she mocked her with a wide, provocative smile. 'That was well played!'  
'Yes, that was close!' exclaimed Kate before Maggie could revile little Moira.  
'And, talking about that, could I know where you've been?'

The five girls turned around suddenly under the kind, as well as severe, look of their prefect: the young Dennis Crivey. He was dominating them in height, tall and thin, his blonde and dull hair falling on his forehead in a large lock neatly combed and his rounded ears brought out. New prefect, very appreciated by his schoolmates, he was lenient and tuned to requests, but was showing enough authority to inspire respect to his younger mates.

'Where… Where have we been?' repeated Maggie, impressed.  
'Both of you…'

He pointed out at Kate and Maggie alternatively before crossing his arms on his chest.

'I saw you sneaking out before the diner began and all this mess happened…'  
'W-we went to the… toilet', stuttered Kate.

Denis nodded, while the two girls were sharing a worried look.

'And how could I be sure you didn't take your heels because you knew what would happen? I find it really peculiar that you chose the last minute to go to the bathrooms…'  
'That's a girl thing, it's unpredictable!' Kate tried to argue in vain.

As for Maggie, she preferred to pick out the accusation:

'Us?!' she got indignant, open-mouthed. 'You really think we could have been able to make hundreds of innocent pumpkins to turn into biting and exploding Bludgers?!'  
'That was a sick joke nobody enjoyed and it had been prepared by someone… I'm just trying to know who…'  
'Kate sucks at magic', interceded Suzanna on Kate's behalf. 'She's incapable of casting anything but bangers from her wand! Do you really believe she could have managed to enchant so many pumpkins on her own?! That's getting our hopes up or being completely crazy!'

Kate turned towards her roommate and granted her with a half offended, half satisfied grin. Even if she was aware of that, the fact that her incompetence in casting spells was brought up hurt her feelings.

'What about you?' asked Dennis to Maggie.  
'I'm only in first year and my parents are very respectable people! Do you really think I would stoop to the level of attacking people with pumpkins? If someday I decided to make joke, I will try to be more inventive and less rude than that!'

Young Dennis sighed, staring at the girls who were, all five, observing him with a unanimous look. Then, his face broke into a smile:

'Good. Be more discreet next time you do your girls stuffs… May I don't see you into such things again!'

The Gryffindors unblinkingly followed with the eyes their prefect, walking away to meet his colleagues from other houses in order to share some information that may help the investigation.

'What a cheek… Such slanders, towards me!' rebelled Maggie, without taking her eyes off Dennis.  
'Honnestly, you're lucky we have Crivey as our prefect! He's not like the Hufflepuffs' one, I heard he was special!'  
'Don't be so mean with Crivey', intervened Scarlett with a little thin voice while putting a lock of her hair behind her ear.  
'Why do you say that? If he's prefect, he should accept us to be, right?' teased Maggie.  
'He is an exemplary Gryffindor. Both his parents are Muggles. He joined Dumbledore's Army at the age of twelve. And his big brother died in the battle of Hogwarts…'

A short grieving silence fell on the group.

'But, tell me, you seem to know a lot about Crivey!' said Suzanna, mischievous. 'That's hiding something!'

Scarlett's face immediately matched her hair colour.

'N-no! That's rubbish! I just keep informed about what is said!'

And while the little girl was being teased by her roommates, Kate was scanning the surroundings; the small groups of prefects and professors. They all had a single word in mouth. The same one that was resounding in the little witch's head: "who?"


	5. Slugs and pink shoes

5\. Slugs and pink shoes

Very few first years of Gryffindor had kept informed about the selections for their new Quidditch team. After Harry Potter's departure in 1997, the captain and Seeker post had became vacant. As for the disconnected team, it had tried in vain to hold on to its last members, too preoccupied by Voldemort's ascension than the Quidditch results. As a member of Dumbledore's Army, Ginny Weasley had wanted to respect her priorities and refused the captain post in order to favour the security of the students, instead of managing six persons for matches taking place into a school under the yoke of tyrants. However, she had taken the Seeker post, which she was keeping with honour. And so, Gareth Gale, Griffin's big brother, had accepted to take the captain post as soon he joined the team as the new Keeper, for which he had revealed himself to be brilliant. The impressive charisma, characteristic of the Gales, had allowed him to show himself as an inner leader, strategic and self-willed.

Two young Chasers had been nominated after the trials for which a lot of Gryffindors had tried their luck. Jade Danielson and Betty Bushby, fourth years and best friends, had been given the post after a perfect performance in throwing passes; there was such complicity between them, that their exchanges, done with panache, totally fooled the assembly. The new pack would have now to prove itself in front of such an experienced team as Hufflepuff, which had never changed its players for two years.

* * *

Luckily, after a particularly cold and rainy week, the sun decided to reappear on the day of the match. All the students had run towards the stadium as soon as they had finished their breakfasts. While climbing the stairs, Kate turned and looked at the pitch with an amazed look, taking a deep breath of vivifying air. The wooden towers were covered with canvas sheets in all four houses colours, on the pointed tops of which, flags decorated with each house's animal were floating in the wind.

She hastily met up Maggie and Terry, too occupied sharing forecasts at the top of the bleachers.

'Gryffindor hasn't lost a single cup since 1994', put forward Maggie as proof, her chin raised, underlining her haughty profile. 'It's impossible we loose the match! Impossible!'  
'Your team is broken up', replied Terry, leaned on one of the guardrails. 'While in Hufflepuff, we have tactics, strategies, unlike you! The team has been playing together for a long time, we have the advantage! I'm certain!'  
'We have Ginny Weasley.'  
'Half of your players are only in fourth year...'  
'Apparently, our new Chasers are very talented.'  
'We have better broomsticks than yours!'  
'Your justifications are poor.'  
'You are being very dishonest.'

Running out of arguments, Maggie turned red, threatening to blow out with anger, before telling Terry, who was very amused by the situation:

'Very well! This being the case, I don't see any other solution than taking bets.'  
'I'm in', he smiled. 'What do we bet?'  
'If Gryffindor wins the match, you'll have to wear pink shoes for a week.'  
'And if Hufflepuff wins, you will replace me to fill in Slughorn's jars with slugs' eyes next Tuesday. Without gloves. And without your wand.'  
'Deal!'

And while clapping each other's hand, none of them knew at that exact moment, that they just had launch the first bet of a long series... When Kate decided to join the conversation, a young student accosted her. She recognised Joris Juffbigles, the apathetic looking Hufflepuff. He swayed about, looking at her, fiddling with the corner of his cape.

'Hey, do you want Omnioculars?' he whispered, checking no one was looking at them.  
'Not really', she stammered, embarrassed, 'thanks...!'

Joris shrugged his shoulders and slipped towards Maggie. She turned around and her expression changed into a grimace of revulsion in front of the too intimate approach of the other student.

'You want Omnioculars?'  
'Hands off!' she screeched. 'And who do you think I am?! My grandfather invented the Omnioculars! I can have hundreds of them, all sizes, all models and all colours! I could take a bath of Omnioculars if I wanted to! So, why the hell are you trying to sell them to me?'

The young Hufflepuff jumped in front of such a verbal attack. Terry took advantage of it to go on:

'We don't need them, Juffbigles...'

His usual sympathetic tone, however, turned snappy, making the boy understand he wasn't welcome. He walked away to propose his services to other students more likely to offer him a bit of their attention.

'I can't believe it, who is that boor?!' said an indignant Maggie to Kate, pointing out at Joris with an accusing thumb. 'Did you see how he grabbed my arm?!'  
'Don't pay attention to him, he is not mean', explained Terry, bending towards her, his eyebrows skilfully asymmetrical, giving him an amused look. 'On the contrary, he's very useful; he can help you out with anything! If you have something to give him in return... Really, those things he has, I don't know where he gets them! Last time, he proposed me a Shriekingclock after I arrived late in classes!'  
'A... Shriekingclock?' questioned Kate, who didn't know about the many objects of the magical world.  
'It's a pocket watch that talks at specific hours to remind you where you should be. It's useful, but particularly exhausting, especially when the watch is old and becomes amnesic! Believe me, when you wake up in the middle of the night with an old lady's voice that yells at you it's time to feed the owls, you promise yourself to never have a Shriekingclock again! The one I had in my childhood became depressive. It used to tell me "It's time to have a bath! Have fun, I go rusty in a bath... I'd love to rust someday. Just die once and for all. Feel my gears stop and sink... Aah, this life isn't for me anymore, I can't wait to be sold in separate parts!" Sometimes, all of a sudden, it used to say "Time to crush me with a rock!" A catastrophe...'

The two girls burst out laughing, imagining Terry as a child, facing an old, melancholic and suicidal pocket watch.

'And then? What did it become?'  
'No idea! It must be in my parents' cellar, trying to find the best way to end its life! Which shouldn't be easy...'

Then, a powerful feminine voice, full of enthusiasm, suddenly cut all the discussions, resounding in the stadium:

'Hello everyone! I hope you're fine! Are you ready to support your favourite players today in an unforgettable Quidditch match?!'

A wave of approval shouts answered her, covered by the roar of Luna Lovegood's lion head, in the opposite bleachers, making all of her neighbours take a step back.

'So welcome as they worth the two teams that will face in this opening match! Hufflepuff and Gryffindor!'

The players came out from the big backstage door, under the supporters' applauses. Many girls let out high-pitched screams when Gareth Gale entered the pitch with a proud and casual look, rejecting his brown hair back.  
Ginny Weasley's appearance provoked a certain excitement too; because everyone knew her talent for Quidditch and seeing her playing was giving the impression to attend to a professional match.  
Mrs Hooch, the referee of today's match, ordered to the captains to salute each other, after reminding them the rules. Zacharias Smith really looked like a blonde clown next to Gareth. The latter, two years younger though that he was, was already exceeding him from eleven inches, the difference being more flagrant when they had to shake hands before getting on their broomsticks. The two teams got settled on the pitch, flying in close formation, or executing solo figures under the students' cheers. Kate struggled to believe her own eyes. It was the first time in her life that she was assisting a Quidditch match. Indeed, her father, as the former Beater in his house's Quidditch team, told her about it a lot, but she only saw photos. Today, she was having the impression to live somewhere else, where Quidditch wasn't only a picture, but a whole new reality, here, at Hogwarts.  
In the centre of the arena, Mrs Hooch brought the big trunk containing the balls and freed simultaneously the Bludgers and the Snitch, before grabbing the Quaffle and throwing it into the air.

'Here we go!' yelled the young commentator. 'The Quaffle has been launched! And it's Demelza Robin who grabs it! Great one! With a lot of shrewdness and skills!'  
'Ah, it's already a bad start for you!' Terry shouted out to Maggie.  
'It's only the first catch...! The match doesn't end on it!'

The players were flying in all directions and Kate had to take a little period of adjustment to find her way, while the commentator, over-motivated, was going on:

'... Cadwallader gets the Quaffle back with a breathtaking dexterity. He's very gifted! Oh, what a feint! The Bludger gave him a pretty close haircut! He passes it to his captain, who dashes straight to the hoops! What a speed! What a skill! Unbelievable! Gale just countered the attempt with a tremendous kick in the Quaffle, which is back on the game! Well done Gale! That was high-level! We couldn't expect less from him!'

The student in charge of commenting seemed so fervent and carefree about her loquacity that Flitwick had to correct her while she was fantasizing about the Gryffindor captain's merits, under over-excited chuckles of fans and the boos of boys, all houses combined. This made the three friends, leaned on the guardrail, laugh.

'Look!'

Maggie gave Kate a little hit with her elbow before pointing out a red flash, zigzagging into the air. The commentator enlightened them:

'Oh! It seems that Weasley has spotted the Snitch! It would be a first if she catches it before a single goal is scored! And Summerby has decided to follow her! Maybe this time, he will succeed in catching it without sneezing!'

The first goal, made by the Gryffindor team thanks to the complicity of Danielson and Bushby, provoked a burst of applause. But the lions became quickly disillusioned when Hufflepuffs came back in attack and scored three goals in a row.

'Oh oh, seems like Peakes isn't very happy, seeing the Bludger he just hit towards Smith! Avoided just in time! Luckily for him, I wouldn't have liked to be in his place if he had received it!'

The match went on without any new development. If the players in red weren't bad, the ones in yellow, on the other hand, were deploying all their talents of their long experience as a team. Their Keeper, a girl named Anna Grimm, was very talented to catch the Quaffle on flight with both of her hands, letting go of her broomstick. The gap between Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs gradually accentuated, to the great displeasure of Maggie, who was raging each time the yellow team was scoring.

'Otherwise... just so I know... did you ever manipulate slugs' eyes?' Terry defied her.  
'No, and I will never have to!' replied Maggie, stung.

When the score hit 40 versus 110, things began to slowly evolve; until Ginny Weasley swooped down, closely followed by Summerby. Some spectators stood up, their hearts racing thinking this would be the end of the match. The winner could change any minute now.

'Weasley is very fast! What a shot! But Summerby is just near! But... What is Weasley doing?!'

The young woman had just shot up, an inch before touching the ground. Her opponent was so taken aback, that this unguarded moment cost him. Everyone had a movement backwards and a grimace of pain.

'Ouch! That must hurt! Summerby literally crashed on the ground! I saw his shoe fly! And his broomstick is set into the ground like a pole! With a disabled Seeker and well knocked-out for a while, Hufflepuffs better score the most goals they can to prevent the 150 points that would make Gryffindor win!'  
'Otherwise, did you ever wear pink or will it be your first?' mocked Maggie, by revenge.  
'In your dreams...!'

The lack of experience of the young Gryffindor players showed through when, with a missed back of his bat, Jimmy Peakes sent a Bludger on his Beater teammate who wasn't obviously expecting that.

'Ouch! Coote just received a Bludger right in the face! And everyone knows Peakes is not gentle! Hot, hot, hot! Luckily for him, Coote didn't fell off his broom! But I think he will have a nice bump and a magnificent excuse to hit his teammate tonight!'

Hufflepuff Chasers took advantage of that to score again, against a particularly furious Gareth Gale.

'There! The Snitch!' suddenly exclaimed Kate, pushing Maggie.

The tiny winged ball was fluttering a few feet from the bleachers and Ginny quickly noticed it, seeing the reactions of the spectators nearby.

'Ah! I think Weasley finally saw the Snitch! And this time, it's not bluff anymore! Let's hope for Hufflepuff that Summerby can climb on his broomstick in a few minutes, otherwise, he'll have a reason to cry tonight! He definitely never had much luck against Weasley!'

Ginny passed by under the supporters' eyes in such speed that everyone had their hair tousled, screaming their encouragements.

'What a beautiful Hawkshead Attacking Formation from the Gryffindor Chasers! And what efficiency! They're getting closer to the hoops and... oh! What a beautiful feint! A very skilful pass! Goal! What a shame for Grimm, who grazed the Quaffle with her fingertips! Bushby just scored again for her team! Gryffindor is slowly catching up! But will it be enough to pull out a win?'

Kate was much more focused on Ginny's ballet in the sky than on the other players' performance. The little girl was stamping on her feet, sometimes biting her fingers, other times vigorously clutching on the guardrail. Her scarf had no colour, she was belonging to none of the four Hogwarts family and she was yet, fervently praying for Gryffindor to win. More than for her house, she wanted to see Ginny Weasley at the height of her art.

'Weasley is so close!' yelled the commentator, hysterically. 'She has it just against her forefinger!'

It was a torrent of clamours that shook the stadium when Ginny's fingers closed on the Snitch.

'200 versus 140, Gryffindor wins the match thanks to Weasley's phenomenal dexterity!'

Maggie yelled with joy, jumping at the same time, then started a happy dance while moving her arms above her head.

'I won! I won!'  
'It's the Quidditch team that won, not you...!' qualified Suzanna, further, amused by her roommate's screams and relieved by the conclusion of the match.  
'Pink shoes, show time!'

The ecstatic Maggie was facing a rather crestfallen Terry.

* * *

That's how a few days later, Terry showed late at the Transfiguration exams, his feet decked out in pink shoes, clashing with the black and golden uniform of his house. The other students, already leaned over their parchments, followed with a discreet look Terry's quick walk though the classroom, under the rather surprised look of Wolffhart, standing in front of his desk, his hands behind his back. He gazed at the vivid coloured shoes, his expression unchanged if it wasn't for his raised eyebrow, on one side of his pale face.

'You are late, Herr Diggle.'  
'I-I know, professor, I'm sorry.'  
'New aesthetic tendency?'

Some students couldn't help themselves but chuckle, whilst Terry was melting down in front of the intimidating and unruffled look of the great Wolffhart, in his usual thick black felt coat.

'N-No, professor... I mean, it's... it's...'  
'Be delighted I don't turn you into a polecat for the rest of these tests, he cut him short, sharply, while bending his waxen face with dark rings under his black eyes over him. Your shoes made me more lenient; that's a proof you pay proper attention to my lessons, at least... Now get to your seat, jetzt. And try to be as quiet as possible in respect for your classmates who had the decency to arrive in time. Verstanden?'

In front of such a warning and relieved not to have lost points despite his lateness, Terry swallowed and rushed to his desk, unpacking his quill and his ink bottle, before receiving the subject from professor Wolffhart's hands.  
Kate was very focused on her copy, her quill scratching the parchment without taking a break. The imposed theme was perfectly what she expected: _'1_ _–_ _Explain the principle of the equivalent material exchange. Give an example. 2 – Which procedure would you use to turn a thimble into a swiss-army-knife usable in your everyday life? (Options as a compass that indicates the nearest Irish pub, claw-clippers for small dragons or even poisoned needle are not essential)'_. The test, however, didn't seem to suit all the students. Next to her, Maggie was sighing, leaning her head on one hand, then another, while reviewing the subject as if the answer would jump from behind the letters. Meanwhile, professor Wolffhart had returned to his desk and was correcting some copies, his big pheasant quill ragged.

'Hey, Kate...' whispered Maggie in a very low voice, bending over the table in order to be heard by no one but her neighbour.  
'Hmm?'  
'Tell me, what's the magic formula for the swiss-army-knife?'  
'Helvetiae cultro', she breathed, annoyed and fearful to be in trouble if they were caught red-handed. 'Now, leave me alone!'  
'Thank you!'

The pearly glinting water, the red and the green, was streaming in the water clock with slyness. Until the professor Wolffhart got up and, grabbing the edges of his desk in the same breath, lifted the furniture and turned it upside down, as easily as if he was shaking a sheet. It broke on the stage's steps, spilling the piles of parchments that flew everywhere. That deafening crash terrified so much the students, that everyone, in a common jump, had raised their dumbfounded looks towards their professor who took advantage of it to collect their copies with a move of his wand.

'Die zeit ist verkauft!'

The students' parchments slipped through their fingers, preventing them from writing their last words. However, no protest rose up, everyone too impressed by Wolffhart's impressive stature in front of his crashed desk on the floor. Once the teacher had taken every copy in his hand, he made a nimble move of his wrist and brought his desk back at its place, realigning and reorganising all the supplies that were on it, as if nothing happened.

'The test is over, you can go. I will ensure to give you the results at the end of the month. And next time, I will take the opportunity to give you back the house elves' rags you did last week as your homework...'

The students turned white altogether while packing their stuffs, starting to leave the room and crying for some girls.

'Except you, Fräulein Whisper', shouted out Wolffhart, without detaching his look from the piled parchments on his big ebony desk. 'I'd like to talk to you...'

Quite distraught by her professor's call, Kate stood still while her classmates were leaving, one by one. Maggie made up her mind to leave her friend, after she addressed a grin that was supposed to give her courage. When the young girl found herself alone in the huge classroom, after the last students had closed the door behind them, Wolffhart, still focused on the copies he had collected, called her out:

'Step forward, Fräulein... I don't bite. Except when I'm very angry, but, be reassured, it's not the case...'

His joke terrorised Kate, more than it gained her trust. She walked towards the desk in small steps, her eyes wandering without focusing on anything, especially on Wolffhart's inclined face.

'So? Are you able to explain?'  
'Ex... Explain?' she stammered.  
'Ja. Explain me this...'

Without even looking at his young interlocutor, he made the paper slide to her with his gnarled fingers and turned it by pushing on the corner. Kate recognized her still rough calligraphy and her homework she prepared for the latest classes. All of that adorned with a huge magnificently lined W, with upstroke loops.

'W?!' she wondered, surprised to see such a letter on her copy and not knowing how to react.  
'Hmmm... Indeed, for some of your classmates, we could have use that letter for 'wirbellos', which means invertebrate, and that would be enough to qualify the IQ they showed on their work today. Thank you Merlin, you don't have a slug's level. This W is the first letter of the word "wunderbar".'  
'And... what does that mean?' shyly smiled Kate, shrugging her shoulders.

That's when Wolffhart raised his tousled head and stared at her, his black gaze as piercing as a bird of prey's under his thick grey eyebrows.

'Wonderful', he articulated, his accent brought out, harder, on each syllable.

Immediately, Kate calmed down and felt her limbs stop shaking. An ecstatic smile appeared on her face.

'And... that's why you wanted to see me?'  
'Genau... I'd like you to explain to me.'

Again, Kate tensed up with stupor: did he think she was capable of cheating in order to obtain good grades?

'I don't understand', she stammered in front of her teacher's piercing eyes.  
'As I see you every day in practical, Fräulein Whisper, you're not far from the magic level of a daisy; or, if I wanted to be more specific in the truthfulness of my words, a Blast-Ended Screwt. And yet, on that copy, you demonstrate outstanding capacities to memorize my lessons, understand them, assimilate them and perfectly retranscribe them. What is the reason of this gap between theory and practical?'

Both touched and offended by this statement, Kate cogitated a few seconds, not daring to cross Wolffhart's eyes which, not once, had blinked.

'I have the impression magic doesn't work with me. I can see it! Each time, everything I try explodes!'  
'Ich weiss, ich sehe...'

Looking away, Wolffhart stroke his rough chin with his fingertips, giving Kate a few seconds of grace before he interrogates her again.

'Also... before coming at Hogwarts, magic had already shown around you? Was it working? Or was it dormant?'  
'I was able to do some small things, but...'  
'Like what? There, for example, show me. Without your wand; I care about my desk... Bitte...'

Kate's little hand extracted from her large sleeve and, at the slender instigation of her fingers, a white smoke materialized. It gradually took the appearance of an evanescent butterfly, which delicately landed on her forefinger. Intrigued, Wolffhart linked up his hands and thought; that was visible by the more important number of wrinkles on his forehead. Two of them: he was cogitating. Three: he was upset. Four: his anger was growing. Five: you better run and not stay in his surroundings.

'What did your parents tell you about this phenomenon?'  
'Not... much! They never saw anything like this!'  
'Then, can I tell you that you handle magic incredibly well without your wand, Fräulein?'  
'W-What do you mean?'  
'With children showing powers, magic is uncontrollable. It acts according to their desires, their needs, but never answers their own will. I asked you to show me and you did, as if it was natural. And you produced immaterial...'  
'Immaterial?'  
'The immaterial is the magical presence of our feelings. It's a kind of allegory. Do you know what a Patronus is?'  
'Yes, I already saw my father's one...' remembered Kate, frowning her eyebrows.  
'Also, the Patronus is formed by immaterial. Ghosts are too. They are relics of the deceased's feelings, going as far as recreating the person.'

Kate peeked at the little white butterfly that was casually beating its wings on her finger.

'You mean... that it's a Patronus?'  
'Nein, nein! Far from that!' resumed Wolffhart while getting up suddenly. 'I'm trying to enlighten you about the extent of this... Of what you're able to realize.'

Blissfully happy, his young student addressed him a radiant smile but caught herself dreaming a bit much:

'And so you think I would be able to better control my magic without my wand?'  
'Did I only tell you that?' wondered Wolffhart in a casually snapping voice which rebuffed Kate's joy. 'The wand is essential to every wizard because it allows him to channel his energy, making it take the aspect he wants by means of formulas. This is all the interest there. And that is what you have hard time to master. You know by heart your theory and formulas.'

To emphasize his words, he pushed his finger against Kate's wet forehead.

'You have the potential and enough courage to live with the fact you're a witch. I noticed you, during my first lessons, when you faced my enchanted gargoyle without trying to flee; you confronted its gaze. But despite this, you lack of self-confidence. And your will, comes from there, not elsewhere...'

This time, he had pressed his finger under her left shoulder, pointing out her little heart, beating under her chest.

'You have the means to become an excellent apprentice, Fräulein Whisper', he breathed, twice as tall as she was. 'So do me a favour and catch them, suit them. I don't want to see you seven years in my classes, mastering nothing else but an explosive orchestra in C major! Verstanden?'

Impressed by his tone, as much as his stature and his words, Kate couldn't manage to make a proper sentence and simply vivaciously nodded.

'Go back to your classmates now', Wolffhart dismissed her, swirling around his desk, 'they will come to think I'm keeping you in hostage for an improvised detention. I'd rather establish my torturer reputation on faces to faces, not by means of rumours...'

Immediately, Kate lowered her chin and rushed towards her bench; she nearly fell on the few steps that were separating the stage from the students' tables. When she grabbed her bag before making her scarce, Wolffhart held her up:

'By the way, Fräulein Whisper...'

Stopped short, she turned her head followed by her brown and surly hair.

'You will have to agree on your house. It becomes complicated to grant you points...!'

That's when the stern professor, to her biggest surprise, gave a hint of an ephemerid smile that Kate noticed, arousing her own cheerful expression.

'Or found your own house for real, as supposed by your... Sorting Hat!'  
'I can't, professor!' she laughed while throwing her bag over her shoulder.  
'Then you haven't learnt the lesson I just gave you, Fräulein Whisper. Think about it!'

When Kate closed the Transfiguration classroom's door, the professor Wolffhart's last sentence resounded in her mind. Did he wish to see her build her own house, Shatterfly, alone? That didn't make any sense... And yet, she couldn't help but display a wide smile. Maybe, someday, she would be able to? Maybe she would have her common room, her family, her blazon, like she had always dreamt. But for now, imagining it to be a possible future reality seemed impossible. One unique uncertain sentence seemed to guide her thoughts: "Time will tell".

* * *

Going down the Hogwarts dungeons was taking the aspects of torture; the cold putrid smell, the old-period oozing stones. Nevertheless, first years didn't have a choice when they had to go to Potions, each Friday morning.

'How can you live here?' whispered Kate to her neighbour, Morgana, who was intensely focused on her Potion's preparation.  
'We don't live here', corrected Morgana without even smiling, while meticulously pouring grey powder in her cauldron. 'We have to go through the dungeon to go in our common room, but we don't sleep in the corridors! You know, our dormitory is very comfortable!'

She shut up when professor Slughorn passed by their desks. He arranged his shirt, tensed by his paunchy belly, and bent with the greatest care over Kate's cauldron. Apparently, it became frequent that it incidentally explodes in the face. He raised a salt and pepper eyebrow over his piggy eyes.

'Miss Whisper, at this stage of the preparation, your Widesmell Potion should be red and not... purple? How by Merlin did you end up with such a result? None of your ingredients should be able to produce this colour!'

Kate's face turned red while Morgana wasn't drawing her attention from her concoction.

'I don't know, professor.'  
'Try to make everything up. At this stage, if you keep on following the recipe properly, you should manage to reach an honourable nectar... At least, I hope so! Surprise me!'

The innuendo about her incompetence hurt Kate's feelings; she skimmed through her potion book, not knowing where she went wrong.

'And so... How is your wrist?' she enquired to Morgana after Slughorn went away. 'Better?'  
'Hogwarts' nurse is very talented, it doesn't hurt anymore! An ointment and that was it!'  
'And... do you have any idea who was behind all of this?'  
'All of this?'  
'The enchanted pumpkins', whispered Kate, diverting her look from the yellowed pages of her book, watching no one was listening. 'We don't have any piece of information about who caused all that?'  
'How would I know?'  
'Because you always do!' replied Kate.

Morgana gave a hint of a satisfied smile, admitting her friend wasn't completely wrong.

'But, right now, I don't, unfortunately. It would have been too easy. And I would have told my prefect immediately. That was dangerous! And not funny at all!'  
'That's a puzzler, then...'

A little shy hand gently hit Kate on her back and she flip-flopped. Scarlett, her Gryffindor classmate, gave her an embarrassed smile:

'What is it?'  
'I just wanted to tell you that you must add two porcupine's spines into the preparation', she mumbled with her usual thin voice.  
'And so?' questioned Kate, raising an eyebrow without understanding her flame-haired friend's point.  
'You added three of them... and your potion is boiling a bit too much if you ask me!'

Livid, Kate focused on her cauldron again, from which were exuding big mauve dribbling bubbles that were sliding on the cast-iron wall of her little cooking-pot, right down to the blue flames where they were exploding in little sizzling sprays. Panic seized the little girl and she managed to stop the potion to boil over, supported by professor Slughorn who had come to the rescue, admonishing her with a new warning.

'Otherwise, what will you do on holidays?' she asked, resuming the conversation with Morgana while the latter was applying to cut her roots in thin slices before throwing them in her cauldron.  
'I go back to my parents', as a lot of other students. Even though I'd rather stay here...'  
'Really? You're not happy to be home for two weeks?' wondered Kate who was trying to reproduce what she just did, cutting rougher slices.  
'Well, you know... since my father is locked up in Azkaban, I'm alone with my mother at home. And she is... Well. Things aren't too great. I will spend two weeks, locked in my bedroom, only coming down for meals to face my mother's bad mood and my dad's portray. Furthermore, we try not to go out, for fear of retaliates. I don't even know if I will have a Christmas present. The situation is really tricky. All of that because my father did a dumb thing as letting himself influenced...'

She powerfully struck her root with her knife, cutting it in two. She had cut through so hard, the noise made Kate jump. She lowered down, suddenly embarrassed to have been too curious; because, unlike Morgana, she was about to celebrate a proper Christmas. In front of a lit fireplace, in a living room bathed in the warmth of the fire, with a real Christmas tree, decorations – maybe her father would add small ornaments or embellishments from the wizarding world this year! –, gifts, but most of all, her parents. This Christmas Eve wouldn't be the same as the other ones, in the cold humidity of the cellar, curled up in the dust, cradled in her mother's arms. She had been looking forward to this day; so much, she had surprised herself to dream about it at night…

At the end of the classes, Kate found herself with a desperately purple elixir, which was spitting out big sticky and smelly bubbles, whilst Morgana and Scarlett, the two best students of Slughorn's class, were receiving his congratulations for having successfully made their Widesmell Potion. The students who had had correct results were allowed to take a phial of the philtre with them. It allows the one that drinks it to have an over-developed sense of smell during a few minutes.

* * *

That very night, Kate took refuge in the Gryffindor common room, looking for a well-deserved moment of solitude. Her chin plunged between her knees; she was staring at the flames that were consuming in the big fireplace. Some third years were doing their homework at the nearby table, whispering each time a student was passing by. Kate felt the velvety material of the couch before she stroke SirSulkington's head, coiled next to her. The cat purred at this thoughtful gesture. With each passing month, he had learnt to appreciate its mistress and to fear less of the school's huge environment. It was frequent to see the spotless wall-eyed cat pacing up and down the corridors. Once, Scarlett adduced to Kate that she had seen him chasing Mrs Norris, the caretaker's old cat. Filch had always been a difficult character with the students. Had he ever been nice some day? No one knew. A lot of students were supposing that Filch had always been an old fossil, no one was seeing another more plausible hypothesis; otherwise, that would be admitting that he, once, had been a hopeful and innocent little boy. No, after a very short reflection, the lead of the born old always seemed more likely!

Kate would have liked to make SirSulkington understand her annoyance about his frequentation, but she realized she wasn't at the best position to voice the least of reproach about this, as she had befriended a Slytherin, a Death Eater's daughter, moreover.

Heavy, quick and not very discreet footsteps came down the last steps of the stairs between the common room and the girls' dormitories. Maggie, wearing an embroidered cyan pullover, iridescent with golden threads, fixed for a moment little Kate who was curled up on the big couch, her long brown hair cascading on her shoulders.

'What are you doing here alone?' she asked, sitting next to her, making the sofa rebound.

SirSulkington, disturbed in the middle of his pleasant lethargy, opened wide piercing eyes towards her and raised slowly, his hair swollen and his paws heavy, before jumping off the couch and scampering along towards the girls' room.

'I like being alone sometimes…' confessed Kate, her gaze still fixed on the generous fire, between the white stones.  
'You seem rather… sad, to me…'  
'Spending three months away from my parents is long… Of course, I'm happy to be here, with you, at Hogwarts. But after all I've been through… I would rather have enjoyed this new life with them.'

Maggie swayed about a moment on the couch, not knowing what to say, sliding her hands between her thighs as a sign of embarrassment. Then, she addressed an awkward smile to her friend, uncommunicative.

'Your parents are already enjoying their time together, this is the main thing! And so, you will be even happier to see them again at Christmas! You see… for my part… I don't see the point in coming back home. My parents are behind my back as soon as I do something. And for me, Christmas will be a day just like any other. Because I already have all I want… I'm a bit jealous of you, I envy you. You have a real life, not a fake one…'

Kate finally looked away from the fire and turned her head towards Maggie while still holding her legs against her little body, before granting her a genuine smile.

'That's nice… But…'  
'Come here!'

Maggie jumped on her feet and grabbed Kate's hand to make her follow the movement.

'What?' stammered Kate, stunned by her friend's initiative.  
'Put your shoes and your cape on, I have to show you something! I'm sure it will help you feel better!'  
'But I… I'm tired and tomorrow we have…'  
'Don't try to find excuses, I don't care, I don't want them!' interrupted Maggie, pulling her harder from the reassuring warmth of the fireplace.

The two friends went out of the common room under some third years' gazes who were gossiping about them. Kate's anxiety took over when she realized Maggie was dragging her out of the castle.

'We're not allowed to go outside!' she reminded her, worried, slowing down the pace until she completed stopped.  
'Oh, please! Come! We have nothing to fear! I've already done that a lot of times!'  
'It's cold! Filch could catch us! And it's really dark!'  
'Filch never comes by here at this time! Don't worry, I promise! Trust me a little, for once!'  
'And what about the ghosts? We can't anticipate them!'

Maggie gave her usual despaired look, her thin blonde eyebrows falling on her half-closed eyes.

'Are you serious?'  
'Realistic', corrected Kate.  
'If you stay here, then yes, there's a chance a ghost could pass by! So move and follow me!'

The big lawns of Hogwarts had become blue under the gibbous light of the moon and the numerous stars that were scattering the cloudless sky that night. Thin dew was already beginning to flood the dark rye grass, like if it was taking refuge under the vegetation. A soft breeze was carrying the humidity, gently lashing the youthful faces of the girls who were skipping about the vast grass that was linking up the buildings to the lake and the forest. Further, a little bright light was distinguishing through the surrounding darkness: Hagrid's hut was peacefully sleeping, sometimes spitting out curls of grey smoke, the giant certainly devoting himself to his favourite activities: the breeding of toxic slugs, reading of _"My thousands dangerous dragons"_ , or taking care of Fang, his brave and old hound.

'Can I know where you're taking me?' worried Kate, pulling her grey scarf back against her reddened and freezing nose.  
'Wait a bit more, we're almost arrived! And you will know! Walk, instead of speaking, otherwise, you will freeze here!'

The little blonde and curly haired Gryffindor rubbed her hands wrapped up in her red gloves, while accelerating the pace. Further, a background sound was starting to come up, contrasting with the oppressive silence of this autumn night: frogs were singing to the night star, carefree and safe from the human world, once the shadows had covered the ground. Behind, the shimmering ink coloured extent of the lake was plunging into the nebulous horizon, enclosed between two black hills. A strange smile stretched Maggie's lips as she was walking through the swamps that were lining the big lake of Hogwarts, her shoes sinking into the glebe. The spongy aspect of the ground disgusted Kate a moment; she had to force herself to move forward in order to not lose sight of her friend while the night was taking over. Only the contours of Maggie's silhouette were underlined by the moonlight.

'Here we are!' she sighed, scanning the place.

When Kate met her up, she grabbed her sleeve and pulled herself against Maggie, not reassured at all.

'And so?' she asked. 'Why did you bring me here?'  
'If you keep on annoying me, it's simple and you'll know it very quickly; I'll drown you in the mud! So shut up and listen…'

The frogs were continuing their awkward melody that was filling the place with a picturesque atmosphere.

'Shush…'

Maggie followed the cawing calls.

'Look…'

She pointed out a direction to Kate.

'Well, it's just a… frog?' said Kate, surprised, squinting her eyes to see better.  
'Yes, indeed, it's a frog! An orange one! There's a lot of them around here!'  
'And so? I don't get it… You brought me here just to watch frogs? There are funnier activities, don't you think? Especially as Slughorn's office is full of multiple coloured frogs!'  
'Yes, but in the dungeons, and especially in classes, we can't do that…'

On these words, Maggie drew her wand, made some precise gestures and aimed at the poor, indolent creature that was staring at her with its glassy and unintelligent gaze.

' _Confringo!_ '

Pop! The animal exploded in a big, orange spray that scattered over the lake's bank. Kate stayed particularly gobsmacked:

'You… You killed it! You blew up that frog!'  
'This feels really good! I often come here when I'm mad and feel the need to let off stream! It's absolutely normal! Try, you'll see, you'll like it!'  
'But I don't want to kill frogs! And, above all, someone may find them at day light! What will the teachers say?! We're going to be expelled for animal murder!'  
'The waters of the lake cover the banks in the morning! Everything disappears! And believe me, seeing the number of frogs that live here, I think we have enough stock for centuries! On the contrary, we will receive a medal for services rendered to the school, seeing how these pests invade the place! Don't be such a Slytherin! Have a little courage and have fun! Explosions are kind of your area of expertise!'

Under her roommate's pressure, Kate pulled out her wand from her pocket, with a bit of apprehension, while Maggie took a step aside, for more security. Then, she moved forward to find another frog, right on the remains of its kind. It didn't seem to be concerned about the danger and its impending death. Kate took a deep breath of cold air that vivified her lungs, stinging along her windpipe:

' _Confringo!_ '

Pop! The frog met the same explosive death his predecessor had, and Kate couldn't help herself but letting a compulsive snigger out.

'Ha-ha! Well done!' applauded Maggie, next to her, the sound smothered by her gloves. 'See, that feels good!'  
'Yes', admitted Kate in a sigh. 'Indeed! I didn't think it would! That's funny!'

She brought her newly discovered passion down on another frog, unaware of its fate. The night air was punctuated with little explosions, immediately followed by young feminine high-pitched laughs. For the first time since they met, Maggie and Kate were sharing a common secret, together, like true friends; to the great displeasure of those poor frogs. But, somehow, Kate felt good… She wasn't regretting this at all.


	6. The time she lives her childhood

A bit late but still in time, chapter 6 !

Enjoy your reading!

* * *

6\. The time she lives her childhood...

The first snows came in the middle of December, to the greatest happiness of students. Snowballs fights, thrown with magic, took place on the grounds of Hogwarts; professors had forbidden the children to play in the main court after professor Flitwick had received a powerful snowball that had made him fall, while he was strolling under the covered courtyard.  
After early ended Herbology classes, first years Gryffindors abandoned themselves to an epic fight between two teams: boys against girls. It was a fierce snow battle, each team had put up true trenches, the girls' ones being more resistant and efficient that the boys', thanks to Moira's magical skills, especially in Charms.  
It had been quickly decided that Kate would be offside, because of her explosive snowballs that were strongly compromising the other participants' safety. But the girls refused to fight as long as a boy wouldn't withdraw, the entry being unfair at five against four. Wholeheartedly and without big surprises, it was Griffin Gale who went on the sidelines, joining Kate, sat on the snow, blowing warm air on her frozen hands, despite the thick gloves she was wearing. Griffin turned out to be a very nice and helpful boy, although a bit proud of his person. But it wasn't a surprise for anybody, considering his family history. He undertook to warm up Kate's hands with a minor spell his brother had taught him. That surely was a family strategy to approach abandoned into winter's cold hands girls! But Kate rejoiced where others would have seen some pickup techniques! Griffin wasn't an unpleasant company, on the contrary...  
The battle ended on the boys' stinging defeat, who asked for a suspension of the fight after Maggie and Moira, in cooperation, had shot them to hell with snowballs, hidden behind their strongly damaged fence.  
The day before holidays, a certain excitement took hold of the students, whatever their age. The trimester's last tests had just finished and each of them prepared his trunk to go back to his family, to celebrate with relatives. Once Kate had finished hers, Sir Sulkington's cage on the top of it – the cat was particularly unhappy of his situation –, she abandoned her deserted bedroom by addressing it a temporary goodbye and joined the Great Hall, richly decorated, while other students were waiting for the departure to Hogsmeade station, enjoying themselves by discussing, or playing magical games. In this particular case, she found Maggie and Terry, very busy playing magic hangman at the Hufflepuffs' table. She had no doubt there was a bet behind all this. When Maggie was thinking, it was noticeable; the little girl's fresh face quickly turned red, until she exploded to let out a booming shout:

'N!'

The little red fellow, that was standing in front of her, without a precise face or morphology, looked at her with stupefaction and hit its head against the beam, as thick as a match and already put up, before hitching a rope up, worried about its future situation. In front of her, Terry couldn't help himself but laugh, while his fellow was assisting to the game, crouched, enjoying this very entertaining show of Maggie, pissed and already indicated as the future loser. Kate sat next to them and observed the serious play that was taking place under her eyes, even more terrifying than the snowball fight the other day.

'That's unfair!' shouted Maggie. 'Why don't I find a single letter! Blimey, what's the word you chose, exactly?'  
'Hmm, I won't tell you right now! But I think I found yours!' replied Terry, savouring the situation he was sure to come through victorious.  
'Stop it! You're cheating, I see no other way.'  
'No, no, I promise, look, I'll show you.'

He scratched his chin with his forefinger, his orange fellow imitating him.

'B?'  
'... Yes', grumbled Maggie between her teeth, disappointed.  
'Longbottom!'

Maggie yelled with rage, rejecting her head back, while Terry was letting his happiness out.

'That's unfair, unfair, unfair,' she refused to admit, boiling.  
'This is the harsh reality of losing, what can I do!'  
'You took a super hard word! Composed of Xs and Ys, I'm absolutely sure about it! This is disgusting! We said a teacher's name!'  
'Yes, we did! I chose a teacher's name, I didn't cheat!'  
'And which one?' interfered Kate, her arms stretched on the table.  
'Wolffhart, of course!'  
'That professor has much more consonants than vowels in his name!' bawled out the little girl. 'That's unfair! Just unfair!'  
'And by curiosity, which letter did you have right?'

Maggie turned towards Kate, furious:

'Just the A...'  
'That's... pathetic!'  
'I don't allow you to tell me that!'  
'Hey, I'm enjoying my victory!' exclaimed Terry. 'Especially as the bet we made... just when you think things can't get any funnier, they do! The travel back will be epic, trust me!'  
'Really? What's that bet about?' said Kate, interested, always on the lookout for the bets between Maggie and Terry, as if they were the main attraction of the school.  
'Oh, you'll see! In the meantime... we better join the groups! Otherwise, we'll miss the train and stay here with the reduced committee!'

He got up and carefully put the game in its box before sticking it into his backpack. Maggie muttered again, extremely hurt by her defeat and grabbed the handle of her rolling trunk, leaving the room, her chin raised and her bearing solemn.

'I think she's really hurt', worried Kate.  
'Don't worry, it's good for her! Anyway, I'm sure you'll change your mind when we'll be on the train! You'll see! You won't forget that, I had a great idea!'

The students gathered in front of the entrance of the Great Hall and were led by professor Flitwick, before Hagrid took his place.  
A large majority of students were going back home during Christmas holidays. In Gryffindor, only three students had stayed to celebrate the winter feasts with the last interns. One of them being a first year: Samuel Vifdor; a smart boy full of energy and a bit skinny, unlike some other students. Rather small, Kate had addressed him a few words some time, usually for common conveniences.  
Maggie, Terry and Kate took place in one of the compartments. Quickly joined by Suzanna, who didn't find a seat in the other carriages and who accepted to be away from Moira and Scarlett the time for the long travel to London. Kate had freed Sir Sulkington from his bars but the latter, surly, preferred to keep in mind the insult of being locked up instead of the chance his mistress was offering him.

'I'm going to get the... bet!' taunted Terry while leaving the compartment. 'It will only take two minutes!'  
'Can I come with you?' asked Kate, particularly curious, carrying Sir Sulkington in her arms while the cat, bounced along, was unblinkingly resigned.  
'Of course!'

Kate went out in the corridors after Terry, and tried to maintain her balance whilst the train was rocking in its acceleration.

'What are we going to get?' she asked.  
'I told you: the bet!'  
'Yes, I got that part. But what is it exactly...'  
'Oh, you'll see!'

After they went through three carriages, Terry finally found the fulfilment of his craziest dreams: the candies trolley, pushed by the usual old stunted witch, leaned on the wooden handle. A blissful smile on his face, Terry accosted her and pulled out some Sickles.

'Candies?' wondered Kate after she politely refused some to the old decrepit lady. 'Why candies? I'd be glad to take bets with you if we earn candies when we lose! Maggie's lucky! Why is she crossed with you? I don't get it...'  
'Let's say it's not the usual candies! Come on, follow me! Let's go back before Maggie decides to run away from me!'

And yet, the little girl hadn't move from an inch, transfixed by the fear of her punishment to come, which she was nevertheless accepting with good grace. Bets between Maggie and Terry were always taken very seriously and none of them was substituting himself from it.

'Good... perfect! I got what I need!' announced Terry with a powerful voice while entering the compartment.  
'... Your friend scares me!' said Suzanna. 'What is happening exactly?'  
'Maggie and Terry made a bet on the hangman game... and Maggie lost!'  
'But... Maggie always loses at games! Why did she try anyway?'  
'Ask her!'  
'You know, sometimes, luck goes sour!' bawled Maggie, convinced she can still believe in her advantage.  
'Yes, but it's not really the case for the moment!' emphasized Terry before stretching his arm towards her.

He opened his hand to discover in his palm a rather surprising cocktail: Fizzing Whizzbees, a Nosebleed Nougat, a Pepper Imp and a pink candy Kate didn't recognize.

'I... still don't get it!' she admitted while Sir Sulkington was wrestling into her arms, hoping at all costs to join the seat to loll back.  
'Maggie will have to eat them.'  
'And?'  
'All four of them. At the same time!'

Suzanna and Kate opened a wide mouth, stunned, before bursting out laughing.

'Oh, that deserves a photo!'

Wherever she was, Suzanna was always carrying a little camera that was fitting in her pocket. A little gem her parents had offered her for her first day at Hogwarts. However, having a film of only twenty-four pictures for the whole year, she was saving those for very special moments that deserved to be immortalized. Until this day, Suzanna had only taken four photos; one of Maggie and Moira, who were quarrelling with their ripped open pillows, another taken from an arrow slip of the tower, on which they could enjoy the show of Moira trying to learn to Kate to cast something better than explosions that would hurl her and make her fall on her back, a view of Hogwarts in autumn, whose reddened leaves were giving to the place an even more magical aspect than usual, and the last one: Christmas decorations in the Great Hall.

'No photo!' shouted Maggie, losing her colours. 'I don't want this to be memorized!'  
'Oh yes it will be! We won't have the occasion to see that often!' mocked Suzanna while drawing her little camera before pointing the lens towards Maggie.  
'Come on! Swallow that! The faster you do it, the sooner you'll get rid of it! Don't make a fuss!'

Maggie's look travelled several times between Terry's amused look and his hand, where the candies were lying, not as innocent as they looked like.

'Good!' she grumbled, wringing his possession out of his hand.  
'Be happy! It's I who paid them!'  
'But it's I who will eat them! I promise you the next bet you'll lose, you'll regret it so much you will be begging me on your kneels!'  
'I can't wait to see that happen! Come on, hurry up and eat that!'

Not quite reassured, Maggie grabbed the sweets, cautiously. She could have thrown them through the window, pretended to make them fall in order to lose them under the seats, yet, she accepted her fate with dignity, slipped the candies between her lips, one by one and swallowed them under the attentive looks of her friends. Anticipating the situation to come, Sir Sulkington jumped off the seat in a white flash and ran off in the elevated luggage box.  
The first candy that showed its effects, was the one Kate didn't know: the pink, newly commercialized by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and soberly named Bunn'ears. Long, pinkish downy ears sprouted on Maggie's temples under her friends' loud laughs. Then, the Pepper Imp, particularly difficult to bear, operated in turn: smoke sprang from her new bunny ears, without abandoning her grimace. Maggie's feet took off the floor because of the Fizzing Whizzbees and, on top of this hilarious scene, her nose shed a fountain of blood.  
Terry doubled up with laughter, so much he was rolling on his seat, while Kate was having uncontrollable giggles and a hard time catching her breath. As for Suzanna, she had to show detachment in order to take a correct photo, but she couldn't help but let out a laugh.

'That's a wrap! Moment immortalized!'

Echoes quickly made their ways in the train and a lot of students tried to reproduce a comparable mix in their compartments, in order to obtain some really hilarious results.

'See? You are successful here!' congratulated Terry, while peace had came back in their division, young students running in the corridors, searching for the candies trolley that hadn't passed yet in their carriage.  
'I'd rather be otherwise than by making a fool of me!' grumbled Maggie – who couldn't admit she had as much fun as her friends – with a smile.

Kate was stroking Sir Sulkington, who was back near his mistress after the candies incident.

'So, what will you do during holidays?' she asked her schoolmates.  
'The Order of the Phoenix is organising a big banquet for the first Christmas without Voldemort', enlightened Terry. 'There will be a lot of war heroes, and even the new Minister, Kingsley. As my father is a member of the Order, he had been invited, and I'm going with him. It's gonna be unforgettable!'  
'How lucky you are!'  
'I'm going to France to celebrate Christmas with the rest of my family', declared Suzanna.  
'You have relatives in France?' jested Maggie in a hiccup.

Suzanna settled on her seat, adjusting her long golden hair on her small shoulders.

'My mother is French and has six sisters. Some of my cousins are in Beauxbatons. Each Christmas, a different family organizes the celebrations; and this year, my cousins, Agathe and Léane are in charge... I'm a bit afraid of what they're preparing! I'm not aware of this year's theme, but maybe it's "Unicorns"! They didn't grow up...'  
'And, let me laugh, what was last year's theme?'  
'Leprechauns and Sprites. We were all in green and red, with hideous hats on our heads and the flying Leprechauns my uncle brought from Hungary ate up all the Yule log... A catastrophe.'

Then, Terry turned towards Maggie who was next to him, still sulky.

'And what about you, Candy-woman?'  
'Nothing special', she answered, not reacting to the gibe. 'I will be at my parents' manor, face to face with them. And the butler.'  
'You have a butler?' choked Suzanna.  
'What did you think? I always lived surrounded by housekeepers! I wonder how you do in your everyday life...!'

None of her friends preferred to utter an uncalled-for remark with regard to this assertion.

'Yet, it's your parents who brought you on the quay in September', remembered Kate, while Sir Sulkington was nibbling the corner of her mauve woolly pullover.  
'It's exact. They insisted on coming with me. Being rich doesn't mean your parents are not present, on the contrary...'

* * *

The Hogwarts Express advanced on the snow for several hours, until the night fell an hour before arriving in London, at King's Cross station. As the first buildings were appearing, little Kate was already prepared to jump out of the train, skipping of impatience in front of the closed door, Sir Sulkington's cage in her arms and her luggage under her alert look. When the quay started to pass through under her eyes, she inspected each person, hoping to find her father before going out of the train.

'Someone seems to be looking forward to see her parents!'

Kate turned towards Maggie, who had put on her burgundy woolly hat, ready to go out.

'Is it that obvious?' she grimaced.  
'Big time...'

The train's wheels creaked on the coppery frozen rails, until the red and black locomotive slowly stopped in front of the platform, spitting out one last curl of white smoke that unwind on the quay, obstructed with families. Once the door slid to open, little Kate, her nose into her scarf, rushed on the quay and nearly fell on the steps, Sir Sulkington letting a frightened "meow" out. Kate scanned the landing stage with an alert look while the first years were coming out, greeted by their parents. She started to wonder, but immediately, two large warm hands blocked her sight and a wide smile broke her face.

'Miss Whisper, follow me without resistance...'  
'With pleasure, dad!'

She turned back, nearly letting go of the cage of the poor cat, which was scratching on the bars in order to maintain its precarious balance, and throw herself in her father's arms. He embraced her with a laugh before adjusting her old woolly hat, jammed up to her reddened ears.

'I missed you so much, dad!' she exclaimed, snuggled up against him.  
'Missed you too, sweet pea! Missed you too...'

When Kate detached herself from him and looked around, she was surprised:

'Mom's not here?'  
'No: we'll go home only tomorrow', Phil enlightened her. 'We have a few things to do in London. Both of us...! She would have loved to come but it's difficult for Muggles to become integrated into the wizarding world. I don't think she would have enjoyed sleeping at the Leaky Cauldron tonight!'

Kate frowned her eyebrows and was about to interrogate him, when she was approached by Maggie who just brought her luggage on the quay.

'There, don't forget your trunk!'  
'Oh, thanks Maggie!'

The little blonde girl raised her head towards Phil and swallowed while meeting his steely eyes, very impressed in front of that man Kate described to be a former Slytherin, combatant and Death Eaters killer...

'Hello young girl', he greeted her with a bright smile, sticking his hands in his Muggle leather jacket pockets.  
'H-Hello, sir...'  
'You're a friend of Kate?' he asked in a semi-assertion, seeing her scarf and her trunk bearing the colours of Gryffindor.  
'Yes', she stammered, unblinking. 'We are in the same room...!'  
'She's not a pain in the ass?' he mocked. 'She doesn't bite? Or scratch?'

Maggie opened wide eyes.

'N-no, sir! No!'  
'Good girl', chuckled Phil, rubbing his daughter's head. 'Come on, we should go...'

He grabbed Kate's trunk whilst she addressed her last words to Maggie:

'Enjoy your holidays, Maggie! See you at school!'

Maggie, still pale nodded, dumbfounded, watching Kate going away on the quay with her father, sneaking through the crowd.  
Kate found back the relative comfort of her dad's old Muggle car, lulled by the usual rock & roll music and the characteristic smell of Phil that reassures her.

'And... what are we going to do, here, in London? Are we going to Diagon Alley?'  
'Doing some Christmas shopping, among other things...'  
'And?'

The insistence of his daughter, who noticed the hint about other things, released his tongue as he braked in front of a red light.

'We'll have to go to St Mungo's tomorrow morning...'  
'To see Eliot?' she squealed.

Phil nodded without looking away from the traffic light.

'That's the least we can do for him... He's still there, somewhere.'

The step on the accelerator given by Phil as soon as the light went green was so abrupt that Kate was flattened on her seat, eyes wide open, hands clutched on the handle of the car door, while Sir Sulkington, on the backseat, meowed his dissatisfaction of being so badly treated these last hours.

* * *

As three months ago, Kate and her father found themselves sharing a meal and a drink at one of the Leaky Cauldron's tables. For the New Year's celebrations, huge fir trees had been put in each corner of the main room, adorned with Bertie Bott's every flavour beans, as big as balls. At the top of each tree, a golden Snitch was beating its wings, whistling a music fitting the circumstance. Hannah Abbot, the young manageress of the tavern, had put on a white and red witch robe and her pointed hat was ending with a fur ball that was scattering snow behind her as she was walking. She had been dedicating those last months to the renovations of the place, at the greatest pleasure of the delighted customers.  
Unlike the last time, Phil had exchanged his Butterbeer for a Firewhisky. Sinking his finger into it, he then made Sir Sulkington – who was standing with righteousness next to his mistress – sniff it. The cautious feline smelled it before licking it. Immediately, he moved back, pulling his head inside his shoulders and squinting. He tried to rub his chops with his paws before rolling back and falling off the table, without trying to catch hold of it.

'Poor Sir Sulkington!' laughed Kate while putting down her pumpkin juice.  
'He's no real man, that cat!'  
'That's because he's a cat, dad!' she replied, pragmatic, before she bent down to carry the poor confused animal that was shaking its head hoping to make the awful burning taste disappear.  
'Hmm... You're not wrong... But still!'

Phil soaked his lips into his amber drink before starting the conversation.

'You know that I hear about you everyday?'  
'Me?' she stammered, choking on the piece of turkey she had just swallowed.  
'Hey, don't die now, sweetie! Wait for us to finish this conversation, at least!'  
'Why? Why do you hear about me?'  
'You don't seem to realize... Kate, you opened a house!'

The pout on Kate's face turned sulky.

'I didn't open anything. It's just the Sorting Hat that said rubbish! He has gone mad. I can't help it!'  
'That's not what people told me...'  
'People are not me.'

Definitely, his daughter was a sharp little thing when she had decided to!

'Listen, Kate, this never happened since the creation of the school...!'  
'I know! But I can't make up anything to explain it! I... I have nothing to do with all of that! I want everyone to leave me alone!'  
'Come on, I wasn't asking you to do anything!' he corrected. 'It was just an observation! And, for my part, I think it's awesome...! You're unique until the end, sweet pea!'

Kate took refuge into the shadows of her face bent over her plate, supporting her cheek with her fist.

'For now, I have the impression that brought me only troubles...' she mumbled, sad. 'I just wanted to be in a... "normal" house?'

Phil meditated while peering at his wistful daughter, who was titillating a piece of meat with the end of her fork. A mischievous smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

'I did some research about that...'  
'And did you find something?!' emboldened Kate, raising her head up.  
'Squat. This is as dark as a troll's butt! Except it's empty, there's some leeway...! And we better not know what's inside of it!'

Kate's laugh reverberated in the room, joined by her father's more moderated one. Some customers gave a look in their direction but none of them both gave a damn.

'Otherwise, tell me about your life at school. Classes, friends, professors... How is it going?'

Kate told him about everything she couldn't have put in her letters sent to her parents. The first Quidditch matches of the season, the colossal meals concocted by the house elves, the restoration of some buildings damaged by the war in Hogwarts, her disasters in Charms and Potions...

'Slughorn?!' exclaimed Phil with a wide nostalgic smile. 'That old chap's still alive? Well that's a scoop... That man's been through a lot when I was at school...'  
'Really?'  
'Yeah! For example, I made an apple tree grow in his office to prove him my growth potion was working. Oh yeah... I remember that tree grew so fast it invaded the corridors and scattered green apples everywhere. And after that, Peeves took them to snipe the students, finding there a perfect type of projectile. The Entrance Hall fast became a stew factory. I had been sent into Dumbledore's office, who found nothing better than tell me my apples were so delicious he took some to make pies. And he gave me five points. What memories... Hmm... But that is another story! Go on, I listen to you.'

She went on about her new teachers: Longbottom, Wolffhart, Miss O'Joovens, but especially Harry Potter. Then she began on her Gryffindor friends who had helped her improving her spells.

'You don't have other friends than the Gryffindor girls?' he asked her, raising his eyebrows.  
'I do, I do! There's Terry, he's a Hufflepuff; and Morgana, in Slytherin and...'  
'What's her family name?'

His tone became curter, sharper.

'Who?' said Kate, shaking.  
'Your Slytherin friend.'

By her father's serious look and his articulated words, Kate suspected he was searching for something, based on a terrible doubt... And she preferred to preserve the friendship she was sharing with the green-eyed Slytherin.

'McHannigan', she lied unblinkingly. 'Morgana McHannigan. Why this question?'

Phil thought a few minutes while raising his chin and squinting.

'I'd rather be assured that my daughter, as clumsy as she is, doesn't get in trouble.'  
'That's not my style!' she got indignant. 'I may not be skilful, but I'm rather intelligent! I know what I'm doing!'  
'I trust you', he smiled before finishing his drink.

He slammed the glass on the wooden table. Kate couldn't help but shiver, thinking she was hiding Morgana's terrible affiliation.

'You have inherited of my intellect, so... be up to it, kiddo!'

* * *

London had adorned itself with its most beautiful Christmas decorations. Endless garlands of small lights were trundling along the boulevards and the buildings, emphasizing the whiteness of the tailed stone. A big Norwegian fir tree had been installed in the middle of Trafalgar Square, as high as twenty men. And Kate couldn't believe that Muggle technology alone could have been able to bring it here.

The last latecomers were running in the Oxford Street's shops, hoping to find gifts for their relatives, wrapped in their thick coats. There were a lot of shopping streets, in parallel with this big crowded boulevard. Phil and Kate forked in one of them.

'Are we far from St Mungo's?' she urged him, a steam of white smoke coming out of her chapped lips.  
'Only ten footsteps left.'  
'Ten footsteps?!'

Kate scanned the surroundings with a circumspect look, seeing the passers-by streaming, packages in their arms, bags against their legs.

'If St Mungo's was there… Muggles would see it!'  
'Muggles don't have the eyes for it. Or brain. I sometimes can't really tell!'  
'What would mum say if she heard you say that', mocked Kate, catching up the quick steps of her father who refused to change his usual jacket for a polar jacket or a parka, or at least a magic clothe that keeps warm.  
'Your mother is used to it now!'

Phil stopped in front of a decrepit, certainly neglected Muggle clothes shop in red bricks, called Purge & Dowse Ltd. "In renovation", was specifying the notice on the entrance door. Old dummies, badly dressed, were still adorning the dirty shop window, so outmoded it was nearly unhealthy.

'Please dad', whispered Kate without looking away from the flat face of the nearest dummy, whose fake eyelashes were falling, 'tell me you don't intent to buy this hideous old skirt…?!'  
'Oh please, don't give me this idea for your Christmas gift!'

The little girl's reply didn't come out when he bent towards the old dummy spoiled with mould, which was eating up the linen body.

'We're here for Eliot Burbage', he whispered, so close to the window that a mist stuck on the glass' frozen surface.

On the lookout for a reaction, Kate didn't say anything; until the dummy nodded and invited them to move forward with a slight move of its finger. Without warning her, Phil pressed his hand on his daughter's shoulder blade and pushed her forward, towards the window. But while Kate raised her arms in front of her in reflex, she found herself in a big entrance hall. Bright globes were floating in the air, lighting up the room without any openings to the outside. She quickly noticed the Healers, those wizards wearing long emerald robes, the institutions' badge sewn on their chest. The other people were, apparently, consultants. They were very noticeable, for some of them, as they were missing a limb or having an extra one, a different colour, a plentiful fur or making awkward noises each time they were moving.

'I hate hospitals', spitted Phil, acrimonious, his face down, as Kate followed with an impressed look, a poor man whose head had been turned into a cyan cauldron.

They passed by the queue that was waiting in front of the reception desk, held by a young witch who was trying to explain to a woman whose enchanted ears were singing the opera, that she had to go to the fourth floor. After they passed through the double door, they finally penetrated the hospital and its reality. The white walls had kept some relics of the war, with the damaged stones and paintings. Some rooms had even been blocked up, waiting for construction work. But the patients were so many, sometimes unmanageable, that no one had time to bustle about such tasks. A wizard on a portray that was hung in the corridor called out the little girl who passed under his nose, asking her with impunity if she had had brain bleed these times and, if that was the case, that she imperatively had to consume frosted toad's liver. Taking the stairs, Kate had to climb many steps before arriving to the fourth floor, which, as it was specified on the billboard, was dedicated to magical pathologies, chronic evil spells, enchantments and other hijacked charms. Screams reverberated into the corridors as soon as Phil opened the staircase's exit door, giving Kate chills that passed through her spine. She found herself passing through the corridor, giving a quick glance into the rooms as she went past them. This way, she saw a woman, her face hid by a thick fur, who was barking, a man in a purple robe who was signing autographs on each piece of parchment he could get his hands on, a woman who was going around in circles, repeating the same insane spells and an old wizard who was expressing himself by doing horses' noises. Phil was moving forward in quick steps, as if staying one more minute in this crazy establishment would have him alienated too.

He stopped in front of the Cliodna room, sighed and knocked at the door. A weak "come in" answered him. Next to one of the beds, a young blonde man wearing glasses turned around and addressed a slight smile to the newcomers.

'We are here for Eliot Burbage', explained Phil in a curt tone, sticking his fists inside his jacket's pockets.  
'Good think you came… I was checking if everything was alright…!'  
'More like you were trying some strange potions to see if they would do miracles…'

Phil had whispered so low, only Kate heard it while her father was advancing towards the bed. A young man, about fifteen years, was sleeping in it, his fleshy white lips half-opened, his face still, like modelled in marble and his brown hair like a crown on his pillow. Further, two other patients, inert, were in bed too in this dark room. Kate swallowed as she approached in turn.

'I am Asclepios Sting, healer in trainee of this department', the young man introduced himself, nodding several times, almost making his glasses slip from his aquiline nose. 'I am the one in charge of the Cliodna room and who takes care of Eliot. You are family?'  
'I'm his uncle and godfather', explained Phil, briefly. 'And this is my daughter, Katelyna.'

He grabbed his daughter by the shoulders, both of them having their gazes fixed on Eliot's paralysed face.

'Anything new?' muttered Phil with a serious look.  
'He's stable… But nobody can tell when Eliot will come back to us. Tomorrow, in a month, a year… I'm still optimistic, but I can predict nothing. I've always been bad in divination.'

The attempt of joke found no reaction, as the Whispers weren't even paying attention to him. The trainee stammered, took back his instruments on the bedside table, including his ebony wand, and bowed once again before making off and letting father and daughter alone with the lamented…

'There's really nothing we can do for him?' squealed Kate, at the edge of tears seeing her cousin like this for the first time since their last separation, a year ago, a very particular one…  
'For what I know, and what they know, no, alas… And I'd rather have them avoiding doing experiences on him with their so-called miracle potions…'  
'And you think Muggles would be able to bring him back?' she asked, raising her watery eyes towards him.  
'Muggles? They only know how to mangle people and give them so-called magic candies… If magic can't help, I doubt they can do something for Eliot. Even though I hold them in esteem despite all the bad things I say about them, you better not expect too much from Muggles.'

Kate skirted around the bed in slow steps and contemplated once again Eliot's face that seemed so pure under the translucent light. She gave a hint of a smile in the corner of her lips.

'I'm sure your Hogwarts friends miss you a lot, Eliot', she whispered bending towards him. 'I hope you'll meet me soon… You surely have a lot of things to teach me about the school. I'm feeling a bit lonely without you… That's unfair…'

She started to sob.

'I-it's I who should have been at your place! You didn't… deserve that!'

Phil rushed towards his daughter and hugged her.

'Don't say that, please, Kate… That's not true… No one should have ended here…'  
'But… Eliot didn't do anything! Eliot was innocent!'  
'So are you. You should never have suffered the consequences of your parents' acts. But never say again that you deserved to be here…'  
'And if Eliot wakes up', cried Kate, her face crushed on her father's chest, 'do you think he will be the same? Aunt Charity… Uncle Peter… they're dead… and he doesn't know. He will wake up… with the memory of the pain… with the memory of his torture, of the Cruciatus curse. And… we'll have to tell him?'  
'For now, he's not awake', Phil reasoned her as he was trying to keep calm, grasped by his emotions too. 'So don't think about this…'

* * *

Kate's heavy with tiredness eyes were fixed on the numbers of her Muggle alarm clock, wrapped in her blanket. Outside, under a light grey sky, a thin snow was falling on Owlstone Road, covering the roads and vegetation in white. When 8:59 turned into 9:00 am she extricated from her sheets and jumped on her feet, an ecstatic smile on her lips. In her pyjamas, she rushed towards the stairs, ran down the steps without even trying to be discreet, stealthily followed by Sir Sulkington, made a turn, clutching on the wooden ball at the end of the wobbly rail and appeared in the living room where her parents were waiting, already woken up for the occasion.

'Merry Christmas, sweetie!'

Kate hadn't been that happy for a long time. She casted herself into her parents' arms, who hugged her together, before letting her discover her gifts under the symbolic fir tree. Because the financial means of the Whispers didn't allow them to buy a real Christmas tree, a small one, about Kate's height, was acting as substitute. But Kate didn't care; for the first time in two years, she finally had something that looked like a tree. Her father had even made the effort to buy a whistling star that was singing Christmas melodies while spitting out golden sparks. The little girl didn't know which gift to open first.

'There's too much of them!' she exclaimed, blissful.  
'I received some of them by owl from your Hogwarts friends', explained Phil.  
'How complicated it must be for you, wizards, to use the Muggle postal services…!' mocked Grace before she laughed and sat cross-legged on the stone floor, next to her daughter, pulling the corners of her blue dressing gown against her.

Kate picked out the first gift, on the top of the pile, thin and long. She unpacked a beautiful owl feather.

'To replace the old one I was lending to you until now', explained her father.

The second package, heavier, was containing a whole drawing kit. Charcoals, pencils, thick papers, watercolours… A present from her mother. She received from Maggie, plums woollen hat, gloves and scarf with her initials embroidered in calligraphic silver letters, certainly helped by her parents' money… _"Grey doesn't suit you"_ , she had scribbled on a piece of parchment. Terry offered her a Bertie Bott's every flavour beans box, Scarlett a nice hair pin she made herself, Moira a little book titled _"How to avoid to kill your neighbour – or disintegrate him – with your wand"_ , Suzanna an enchanted figure of the Eiffel Tower, whistling the French national anthem while dancing and Morgana a simple card saying how sorry she was not to be able to send her more than a clandestine piece of paper. The last gift, the shape of a cube, revealed a black box.

'That's a family legacy', smiled Phil while sitting too, putting his arms around his wife who put her head on his shoulder.

When Kate opened the box, she found a golden item, like a closed pocket watch, put on the old purple velvet. Its surface was scratched, sometimes dent. It could be guessed that the instrument had gone through the years; maybe centuries. She took it from its support with the greatest care, letting the box at her feet; and, as she opened it, she discovered a strange compass with three arrows: a big golden one and two coppery, one being thicker than the other. On half of the right part, three little mechanical numbers were appearing. And around the dial, a lot of small pictures were aligned. The compass had to be very old, because the tanned illustrations seemed so outdated, altered by time.

'What is it?' asked Kate, intrigued.  
'That's a compass, passing by the Whispers members since generations… Wait, I'll show you how it works.'

Phils approached her, crouched, and took the compass from her hands.

'Look…'

He turned the knob making the largest of the coppery arrows move.

'It's to find your way to what you're looking for. For example, if you want something to eat, you put the arrow on the cake…'

Straight after he did, the golden needle quivered and pointed out the kitchen's direction.

'It will show you where to get food. The numbers show the distance. To find water, it's the fish, see? Well. You have twenty one symbols. You will very soon find what they all stand for.'  
'And the second coppery arrow?' asked Kate, tapping on the glass to point it out. 'What is it for?'  
'It can allow you to combine, to associate symbols if you're asking for something specific. Let me explain. I put the main arrow on the hand that stands for a person. If then, I move the second one by pulling on the knob, and place it on the heart; the golden arrow will find the person who loves me.'

Immediately, the golden arrow diverted from the kitchen and pointed out Grace, who was observing the scene with a tender smile, her big teeth brightening.

'That's crazy', laughed Phil, addressing to his wife a loving look. 'Centuries since this clock has been created and it still works so well…'  
'I must admit I would have liked to have one', said Grace, raising her long eyebrows. 'I will never get used to your weird objects!'

He replaced it in the hands of his daughter, radiant.

'Take very good care of it. It's a rare item. A true family treasure. And now it's your turn to take it with you at Hogwarts. But careful; never use it badly, ever; because this compass could play tricks on you if you use it for doubtful designs… They never do any good.'

* * *

Back on platform nine and three-quarters of King's Cross station, Kate found her friends with their parents. The first she saw was Terry, with his father about the same height as his eleven year old son, if the purple top hat was included. Father and son didn't seem to have much in common if it wasn't the shapes and colours of their dark eyes. Terry seemed to have inherited of his absent-on-the-quay mother's supposed tall height.

As she explained so much, Maggie's parents were behind her back, walking in her steps, flooding her with questions. The little girl's wish to climb into the train, even though it was by jumping through the window, was then, perfectly understandable.

But Kate saw little Hygie Smethwyck too, brought by her mother, a young thin witch with a smile as ephemerid as her daughter's. Calypso Curtiss, the gracious Slytherin girl was accompanied by her two younger sisters and her parents, all identical, as if made in the same mould: pale skin, dark as ebony hair, expressionless faces and their looks brightening with intelligence. Kate never really talked to that girl but Morgana had described her as a very good student, steeped in wisdom and kindness with her classmate, Juno Nightingal, the Slytherin laughing stock since the beginning of the year. However, there was no trace of her friend…

'Don't catch a cold', worried Grace adjusting the plum scarf around her daughter's neck.  
'Don't worry, a cold is easily healed! Especially with magic, it's very useful, mom!'  
'Prevention is better than cure, sweetie…!'  
'You better hurry', said her father, 'before your train goes without you! I don't want to have you home for months!'

Kate nodded with a smile while the red and black locomotive let out a powerful and noisy curl of white smoke. Then, she hugged both of her parents before joining the closest carriage and saluted them one last time with a move of her hand, hanging on the door.

'I'm scared…' admitted Grace in a whisper when her daughter's head disappeared.  
'You shouldn't', tried to reassure her Phil, putting his arm around her shoulders. 'Our daughter is smart; she won't get in trouble…'  
'It's not that…'  
'Hmm? So what? What is the problem? Kate is happy to go back to Hogwarts…'

Grace turned her face towards her husband, biting her thick lips.

'There will be a day when we'll have to tell her…'  
'About what?' he got annoyed, without understanding.  
'What really happened in Graveson's cellar… We can't hide the truth from her forever. She will have to know about this someday, otherwise…'  
'You want us to make her face that?! She already struggles to fit in at school, because she even hasn't a proper house to belong to! And you want us to tell her?! Don't you think she's already been through a lot?'  
'We can't let her in the dark forever, moreover now she's at school! She will have to learn the truth!'

Grace's words were showing so much contained indignation that Phil was taken aback and stared at his wife, sighing.

'Maybe… But she's still too young to know…'  
'She has always been too young; especially to go through all that… Everything that happened last year; she never should have seen that; she's just a child…'  
'Let's still wait a little before we tell her… It's still an open wound for her.'  
'You're wishing to reopen it?!' she choked.  
'On the contrary. I want her to learn how to heal up first… Let's give her time…'

They assisted the departure of the Hogwarts Express, whilst some parents were addressing last goodbyes to their children, behind the compartments windows.

'The time she lives her childhood as she should have…'


	7. Materia scribens

Hellooooo!

I hope you all had a beautiful week and an excellent week-end.

Here we go for the seventh chapter!

As always, thanks Emi for your comments, I love to read you on each chapter and I love to discover your illustrations of them! Keep up the wonderful job!

And as someone pointed out on the last chapters, I noticed my conversations marks weren't correct according to the english litterature rules (I used the french codes instead, didn't remember they weren't the same ^^). I will change that on the previous chapters and I hope you won't be too lost in this one and that I didn't make mistakes. Feel free to tell me if you notice something wrong!

Enjoy!

* * *

7\. Materia Scribens.

The Scottish snows melted once February ended. The first crocus were sprouting in the Hogwarts grounds, punctuating the green with purple corollas. Professors had taken advantage of the Christmas holidays to finish the castle's restorations. The temporary wooden footbridge had made room for a whole new white bridge. In the middle of it, a little recess had been put in with a commemorative tablet of the students who perished in the battle of Hogwarts. Everybody could do his duty to remember in front of the stunning view of the lake and hills, as their memories were as infinite as the horizon.  
Coming along with this memory in the stone, a tree had been planted in the middle of the school's main courtyard. Still in a shrub state, some students had been engraving, with magic, on the leaves, the names of those they had lost or had been hanging coloured ribbons on the twigs.

Despite the accumulation of good grades at her theory exercises, whatever the subject, Kate had remained incapable of casting a proper spell, to the great displeasure of her teachers. It wasn't bothering her in some classes as Care of Magical Creatures, even though her clumsiness sometimes played tricks on her. That got her Hagrid's sympathy, who had quickly noticed his student's attention for his subject, which many had found weird, especially when it was about brushing Crups' hair; they were creatures that looked like terrier dogs with a forked tail. Kate was showing so much kindness with the beasts – even the most dangerous ones! –, that the half-giant's too sensitive heart had melted. In reality, Kate had lived so many misadventures and was so used to burns, cuts and explosions, that very few things were still scaring her. Next to her, Maggie would be thought to be a silly goose, jumping and squeaking each time a too enterprising Crup was sniffing her cape, leaving a dribble of saliva in mark of his affection.

Kate was still seeing Morgana, with who she was sustaining a friendship like the one she was having with the Gryffindor girls. The two girls could easily share about the last years under the yoke of Voldemort, Kate having this need to exude this dark blood, which her Gryffindor mates couldn't manage to understand, each time diverting the subject. This taboo, she had been able to tackle it with Morgana, with who she had been sharing about what they lived, in their opposite situations; but in a common, oppressive fear.

Despite the months passing by, Kate was keeping on her researches at the library, each Saturday afternoon, with Hermione. Students were used to see them leafing through dozens of books, even though there was a seven years difference between the two girls. One day, Kate decided to move up a gear:

'What about the restricted section?'

The sentence embarrassed Hermione so much that she raised her nose from the pages of the book she was searching into. That was a rare thing, given Hermione's skills when it came to do something while reading: talking, casting spells, eating, explaining the theory of a spell to a seventh year classmate, all of this without even looking away from her book.

'The restricted section? Are you being serious?'  
'Of course! Otherwise, I wouldn't have said that.'  
'Because you think we would find something in the Restricted section?'  
'Something someone tries to hide. Seems logical to me, doesn't it?'

Hermione thought for a few moments, without taking her eyes off Kate.

'As a seventh year, I surely can go there... But I couldn't stay, only borrow a book, and there are plenty of them! To pick up the good one at first try isn't possible! We don't even know what we're looking for...!'  
'And even if a teacher gives me an authorisation, it would be the same', grumbled Kate. 'I would have to ask for a specific book, I couldn't search in there.'  
'As far as a teacher gives you the authorisation to the Restricted section... You're only in first year!'

Kate kneaded her fingers without meeting Hermione's eyes. She checked nobody was looking in their direction before saying:

'And... do I really need an authorisation?'  
'What?!' choked Hermione, shaking her voluminous and untidy hair. 'You want to go into the Restricted section without authorisation? It's against the rules!'  
'And so?'  
'And so... it's against the rules! You don't really seem to realize!'  
'For what I know, you, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley... you didn't really care about the rules!'  
'Indeed, but it was in a specific context...! We were at war! It was a matter of general interest!'

Offended, Kate frowned.

'Does that mean my situation isn't... "serious"?! That I can stay like that, without knowing, during seven years?'  
'Shhhh!'

Hermione put her finger on her lips when she saw Madam Pince approaching in order to put back a book in the adjacent shelf, angrily whistling against the uncareful student who had folded the corner of a page, promising herself to make him pay this insult. She waited for her to go slightly away to pull out her wand:

' _Muffliato..._ '

The librarian was victim of strange noises in her ears, preventing her from hearing the conversation between the two students behind her.

'You could get into troubles!'  
'I have to go!' Kate tried to make her understand. 'I have to find a piece of truth, at least...'  
'What if Filch finds you? What if you get caught...!'  
'I'm ready to accept the consequences... but I'm tired of not knowing about my own situation! I have to know more about Shatterfly!'  
'As a prefect, I prefer to warn you: you don't have the right to do this.'  
'Would you stand in my way?'

Hermione rolled her lips inside her mouth. She couldn't help herself but feel some affection for this so brave and determined little girl.

'No. But I stick with what I said: I don't advocate your acts. You're on your own...'

The young woman rose up from her seat, helping herself with her arms, before gathering and piling up the books in order to put them back on their shelves.

'But if you change your mind, I'm still willing to help you in another way...'

Kate addressed a last tight-lipped smile to her as she was going away. Now that she had her idea in mind, it seemed impossible for her to abort it.

* * *

The wait for the right night was starting to weigh on Kate's heart, but she had all her plans already set in her mind. And so, one night, she pretended to be tired and went up to bed early, with her clothes on. Then she waited for all of her friends to get changed and finish their discussions – Moira and Maggie were arguing for the umpteenth time while Suzanna was deploring, once again, the loss of one of her uniforms, her stuffs in mess –, while pretending to be asleep when Sir Sulkington, at her feet, was dozing already. Resisting falling asleep until her friends did was a hard and painful thing.  
When the slight snoring of the girls started to be heard, Kate got rid of her sheets and moved stealthily through the room, favouring the soft carpet to the creaking parquet. She checked she had everything she needed in her cape's pocket: her wand, a piece of parchment, her owl feather, a small phial of ink and, above all, her compass she had received from her father at Christmas. She was about to pass through the door when she heard a slight noise following her steps. Behind her, Sir Sulkington was interrogating her with a half-curious, half-scolding look.

'Come here...' she whispered to him.

Pet and mistress came down the stairs discreetly. The common room was empty at this time of the night. Warms ashes were fluttering above the dying logs, freezing the tapestry into the darkness' insipidity. Her heart started to race in her chest when she came out, wondering if the Fat Lady would accept to let her back in, in the middle of the night. She talked to her cat while she was moving forward in the empty corridor, under the paintings' drowsy looks:

'You take care of Filch and Mrs Norris. You find them, watch them and if they come close to the library, you come find me, quickly! Ok?'

At the time, she felt stupid to talk like that to a cat, however, the latter galloped and took the perpendicular corridor; surely looking for a mouse instead of that old rat caretaker...  
Luckily, the moving stairs, a bit less active than at day, allowed Kate to reach the library without getting lost or making detours. Statues seemed to have a sharper look at night than within the day, searching the darkness, while the light, animated by the fire of torch were making the shadows dance on their reliefs. The gargoyles were grimacing and griffons were waiting for the right moment to jump on their prey. Every corner seemed to be holding secrets, mysteries ready to jump down her throat. Every single slight noise was reverberating on the cold stone, as if not a soul was living in this huge and gloomy castle, except the wandering ghosts' ones. The place was so sinister at nightfall that the atmosphere was blood-curdling...  
Facing her fear, Kate took her compass and turned the knob. She pointed the hand with the first arrow to make sure no one was around. To her great relief, it indicated an opposite direction than hers, with a distance of about three hundred feet. She entered the library. But the books themselves seemed to be watching her, their edges glowing under the moonlight that was passing through the window panes separated by wrought iron bars. She walked alongside the shelves, staying hidden in the shadow, as a precaution. Until she reached the Restricted section door. At that moment, Kate thought she was the dumbest witch of the universe: how could have she forget that damn lock blocking the way!

'Stay calm', she breathed. 'Calm...'

She concentrated, closing her eyes. She knew the spell that would help her through this inconvenient situation. If she was, however, able to perform it... But she didn't lose confidence: she couldn't backtrack at this stage. That was her decision in order to find the truth about her house.

 _Breathe, Kate... Breathe..._

She pulled out her wand and walked a few steps back while pointing it on the old rusty iron lock. She relaxed her muscles. She had to succeed. It was just a lock...

 _You can do it..._

' _Alohomora!_ '

The lock quivered, shining with a brief golden glint, before ceding. Kate couldn't believe it, her eyes wide open. Her spell had worked successfully. Indeed, the result would have almost been the same if she had just made it explode, however, she would have been caught because of the awful noise she would have made in the huge library.  
Kate pulled the heavy door and walked, warily, into the Restricted section. A damp smell of stale and old parchment was filling the room, so dusty that the air was full of small particles. Some sets of shelves were penned in tall cages or fenced with wire nettings. Books about dark magic, even more condemned given the last events that had soiled the wizarding world. But it wasn't what Kate was looking for...  
Her first researches turned out to be fruitless. Lacking of patience and fearing to be caught red-handed if she stayed too long, she undertook to use her compass' powers, even though she didn't know all the possible combinations yet...

'So... what could we try...'

Letting her instinct talk, she turned the worn knob and set the first arrow on the parchment. Immediately, the golden one went crazy, the numbers winding on endlessly, until Kate set the second coppery arrow on another symbol: the star. This one never was very useful, always pointing out strange things she didn't understood the meaning. Once the combination done, the golden arrow suddenly immobilized and the numbers stopped at 0-6-8. Her heart racing, Kate moved forward, following attentively the direction. Until she passed by a set of shelves, making the arrow turn slowly, pointing a row of books. One in particular; its edge was in a dark red colour that was highlighting the golden letters in relief: _The dark past of witchcraft and wizardry schools_. The path seemed mapped out...  
Kate closed the lid of her compass and stuck it in her pocket with precipitation before grabbing the book. Her little feverish fingers left prints on the thick dust that was covering the leather and the edge of the pages. Then, she went towards the closest window and consulted the large book in the moonlight. The thick pages revealed many secrets about the construction of witchcraft and wizardry schools around the world, some of them built in the middle of terrible wars, at a time when dark magic was more common than the one that was used nowadays. When she found the chapter about the history of Hogwarts' creation, Kate found the same stories she read time and time again. Until she noticed, with dismay, that three pages at the end of the chapter were missing, cut with the magic of a wand. Kate's face flushed with rage; she understood better Madam Pince's fury about damages caused by students on those innocent books, before looking at the list of the last borrows. There were only three names on it, the most recent being in 1987. Regina Hawshore – 1596, Galathea Westside – 1811 and Electra Byrne – 1987; and there was no doubt that one of the three temporary holders was responsible of this act. Except if someone broke into the section to consult this book, just like Kate was doing at that exact moment! She scribbled the three names on the parchment she had taken.  
She was diverted from her meditation when the door of the Restricted section creaked. Kate made a U-turn, her heart missing a beat: Sir Sulkington had gotten into the room and was looking at his mistress with insistence.

'Sir Sulkington!' she said in a low voice, surprised. 'What are you doing here?!'

As soon as she had pronounced these words, a noise got heard into the library.

 _Filch!_

As fast as possible, the little witch put the book back, pushing it down onto the shelf, waking up some other animated books that growled out with discontent. Then she rushed towards the main library; Sir Sulkington vanished as fast as he appeared. Perceiving in the distance the noise of the caretaker's limping steps, Kate crouched in the shadows of a piece of furniture, took out her saving compass and set it on the hand to point out the closest person, indicating that Filch was moving towards her. With some luck, maybe he wouldn't know she was there. However, the place where she was couldn't hide her from him, if Filch came to approach, armed with his lantern.  
As a precautionary measure, she took off her shoes and scampered along in her socks towards the closest shelves, while keeping an eye on the numbers informing her that the distance between her and the caretaker was reducing.  
Until her eyes met a table against the wall whose wooden panel would prevent her to be seen if she hid under it; her last hope.  
Kate jumped from shelves to shelves, flattening herself against each piece of furniture, holding her breath. But her discretion had a flaw: she walked on a loose plank which creaked under her foot.

'Who's there?!' yelled Filch, swinging his lantern.

Kate's terror was such that she ignored stealth and crawled on all fours towards the table, under which she took refuge. However, the numbers were keeping on falling: the caretaker was still approaching. Until they stopped at 0-0-8; he was very close... So close, she could hear his grumbling breath. Kate's prayer was resounding so loud in her mind, she was hearing her temples beat at the rhythm of her heart. When, suddenly, a shadow moved under her eyes: Mrs Norris, Filch's cat, had discovered her hiding place. Her sneaky green eyes squinted while Kate was silently begging her. Despite this plea and those big eyes, the cat let out a shrill meow. Filch's head appeared under the table, his mousy hair – of which remained only some bits –, falling. A little reassuring smile stretched his thin lips, revealing his rotten teeth.

'Well, well, what a catch, Mrs Norris...!'

Kate's whole body was shaking, curled up. Then, Filch grabbed her shoulder and pulled her out, without any gentleness.

'If there was only me, young girl, I would resort to old methods that were applied once', he whispered, between wrath and sadism, while he was dragging her out of the library, followed by Mrs Norris galloping steps. 'Ah, I miss those old tortures...'

Where was Filch taking her? To the dungeons, to put her up behind bars and let her rot in a putrid cell all night? Throw her into an abandoned broomstick closet? Send her cleaning the Owlery with just her hands? They moved forwards, until they reached a griffon statue standing on its muscled hind legs, claws unsheathed and its forked tongue coming out its half-opened beak. The caretaker pulled Kate by the arm, who didn't say a word about the pain, before he grumbled:

'Albus Perceval Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.'

At these words, the statue trembled on her pedestal, began to turn on itself and went up, letting place to a narrow stair. Filch grabbed the shoulder of an opened-mouthed Kate and abruptly pushed her in the staircase.

'And don't you dare do that again or I will disobey the orders and rip your fingers off, one by one!' he threatened her, pointing her with his finger.

Terrorised, Kate nodded, flattened against the wall while the stairs were bringing her up. The office, on which the stairs ended, was plunged in a far warmer atmosphere than the one in the empty corridors. Thick tapestries were covering the walls, dozens of sleeping portraits were filling the place, which was separated in two by some small steps covered with dark red. Shelves were collapsing under books, others under strange objects Kate didn't know. She only recognized the Sorting Hat that was sleeping at the top of a shelf, releasing a cloud of dust each time it was breathing out. Not daring to explore the top of the room, where a desk was standing alongside multiple crystal display cabinets, marble stands, a lot of other off-the-wall objects and an incalculable number of paintings, Kate took place in a quilted seat, feeling the velvet of the armrests. If every punishment sent her to this mystical place shrouded in mystery, she thought she ought to get punished much more often! Facing the risk that Filch would cut off some fingers of hers...  
Suddenly, the door leading to the stairs opened. Kate immediately jumped off her seat, finding herself face to face with the embittered and very dissatisfied expression of the headmistress, Minerva McGonagall. She hadn't change her usual emerald robe for a night gown yet, her bun, usually faultless, was letting some scattered hair out and the shadows under her eyes were testifying that she was certainly about to go to bed, before being called in her office.

'Miss Whisper... why am I not even surprised?'

She had pronounced those words in such a clipped and categorical tone that Kate didn't dare to submit the slightest retort. The headmistress walked passed her, disregarding her with her solemn and stiffened bearing, climbed the stairs, throwing the tail of her robe backwards, before taking place behind her desk. Kate didn't know at that moment if she had to follow her or stay still, watching her settling. Why did Filch send her directly to the headmistress' office? Couldn't he have entrust the task to a subordinate teacher instead? Why not the head of her adoptive house, Neville Longbottom, rather than disturbing the headmistress herself for something as ordinary as a nocturnal escapade in the library?

'Mr Filch immediately warned me about the incident that happened...'  
'That... that wasn't an incident, professor...' she stammered.  
'Then could you explain what you were doing in the library in the middle of the night while you were supposed to be in your dormitory, Miss Whisper?'

McGonagall had joined her hands; her thin and knotty fingers intermingled and gave her a piercing look above her glasses. Behind her desk, the portraits of the different headmasters awoke one by one, surprised to be woken up in the middle of the night. In cautious steps, Kate climbed the stairs, without looking away from the headmistress.

'I was... doing researches...'  
'That doesn't excuse the fact you were out of your dormitory. I'm expecting better explanations, or terrible consequences will have to be applied for the house that took you in... Don't make it worse.'

Kate swallowed. She felt her arms shaking against her body, incapable of lying:

'I was doing researches... about my house.'  
'In case you didn't know, Miss Whisper, the library is opened during the day for the ordinary persons.'  
'I had to go to the Restricted section.'

Kate's clear-cut sentence transfixed McGonagall who, however, didn't abandon her pinched expression, her small, lacking of thickness lips falling on her chin and her wrinkles stretching on her gaunt and hollow cheeks.

'I beg your pardon?' she choked, shaking her head as if she didn't hear well.  
'The Restricted section, professor. I have spent days in the library, finding nothing. The Restricted section... it was my only way to find a clue...'

Since always, Kate's principles and education made her incapable to formulate the slightest lie; or at least a credible one. In the best case, she forced herself to silence, but at the price of many efforts to refrain herself from exposing the truth.

'Try to understand me, professor', she stammered, perfectly aware about the fact she was taking risks, talking like this to the highest ranked of Hogwarts, who could be able to turn her into a snail at the exact moment she would pull out her wand, in order to make her shut up. 'I have no information. Nobody ever gave me. I can't even find my place in this school. Gryffindor is not my real house. I needed to learn more... No matter how... Nobody ever gave me clues or information. Nobody really supports me. Nobody tries to understand me, to stand in my shoes, except for Hermione Granger. So I had to figure out by myself. I had to...'

In front of that, for the least, disconcerting enlightenment, McGonagall didn't react. She just looked at the little febrile Kate, who noticed the shadows that were moving on her wrinkled throat.

'Miss Whisper. Your situation didn't allow you to go beyond the rules. The Restricted section isn't forbidden for nonsense...'  
'I know, professor...'

Then, the headmistress stood up, as straight as an I, before going to the bottom of the room.

'Follow me, Miss Whisper.'

In a recluse corner of the room, a little desk in a light wood was waiting, a single parchment on it. Above it, a quill was floating in midair, apparently bored, enjoying itself by dancing around, making its feather swirl.

'Do you know what that is?'

Kate shook her head.

'This quill is unique in the whole country. Don't let its appearance fool you; it's been existed for centuries. One day, it wrote your name; your parents'; mine; your ancestors' names and my ancestors' names. This quill writes the names of everyone who has magic in their blood and will come to learn at Hogwarts. Each time someone comes into the world, his or her name is inserted on this register, which is kept for eleven years, before we take it out on the day of their Repartition in first year, along with the Sorting Hat...'[1]

Straight after she had pronounced those words, the feather quivered like if it received an electric shock and fervently scribbled on the parchment. Curious, Kate approached and read the name of Karen Karrigan.

'And so... this little girl whose name has just been written, right there... Karen... Karrigan. She's just born?'  
'That's exact... And in eleven years from now, she will join Hogwarts.'

Kate turned towards the headmistress: should she admit she didn't understand and take the risk of rehashing her disobedience and disrespect of the rules inside the school? However, McGonagall seemed to recognize the question in Kate's eyes.

'You wanted clues about your position in the events you are confronted to? You only had to ask me instead of wandering about into the Restricted section like a dog looking for a bone, Miss Whisper...'  
'I don't get it, professor... How could this quill help me in what I'm looking for?'

McGonagall sighed and her expression somehow seemed more relaxed, but also more worried. Her glasses slid on her aquiline nose. Then, she approached the archives shelves in stretched steps.

'The day of your birth, the magic quill went into panic...' she said while searching into the documents with her fingertips.  
'What do you mean she went into panic?'  
'You will understand... the time for me to find the list... It shouldn't be far...'

She took out the rolled parchment with the greatest care, in her brittle, bony hands, before taking off the ribbon that was sealing it. She unrolled it, gave a look at it and pursed her lips before handing it to Kate who took it with dismay, as if it would explode in her face. Her reaction was so surprised when she discovered the content that she jumped and nearly fell. Everywhere, all over the surface of the paper, her name was written.  
Katelyna Whisper. Katelyna Whisper. Katelyna Whisper.  
Everywhere it was possible to write Katelyna Whisper, her name was appearing, sometimes even above her classmates' ones, barely visible under the quill's wild calligraphy. It was easily noticeable that someone had tried to erase the ink with magic, however, it remained indelible.

'Why?'  
'I was hoping you'd have the answer, Miss Whisper', declared McGonagall, coldly, crossing her arms on her chest.  
'Did... did that already happen before?'  
'I asked Dumbledore about this phenomenon when it showed, eleven years ago.'

She threw a quick glance towards the big portrait of a man in a mauve robe, his eyes closed behind his half-moon spectacles and his beard swelling up and down at the rhythm of his breathing.

'And yet, he couldn't give me an answer. The mystery remains, as your house's.'

Searching for truth at any cost, Kate let out a question:

'And what if that was linked? What if the fact that I was sorted into a fifth house that doesn't even exist had something to do with the quill going crazy and writing my name everywhere?'  
'A lot of correlations can be supposed; that doesn't change the fact that, at the end, there's no result... There is no valid explanation. Except if, by any chance, an idea suddenly comes up to you...!'  
'And why didn't you tell me on the first day? You knew, yet...'  
'Don't push impertinence too far, Miss Whisper...!' she said, snappier.

Despite everything turning in her head, Kate's mind remained still full of questions. Others joined them, giving her the impression that someone had spilled lead into her head and was having fun doing that; maybe a mischievous spirit, more sadistic than Peeves... She put against her chest the parchment she had just rolled and wrapped, while trying to think about a solution.

'The Sorting Hat told me that it had something to do with my blood. Yet... I don't have special blood. My father... had a normal scholarship. My grandparents too... In any case, I never heard strange things about it... And the Sorting Hat never made up a house for them!'  
'And what about your mother?'  
'She's a Muggle, professor.'  
'Does that change anything?'

Kate had a hiccup, gobsmacked:

'She doesn't have wizard blood. Never, ever, in her family, had someone attended Hogwarts. She has discovered about magic when my father has showed her, but never before that!'  
'What makes you think that it's necessarily wizard blood that triggered the Sorting Hat's reaction?'  
'He... he wouldn't have noticed if that was the case! Normal blood... can't be detected! This quill is the best proof, don't you think?'

She pointed out with her open hand, the blue quill that had been starting again its bored dance. Yet, McGonagall sighed:

'Miss Whisper, why in your opinion, children coming from two Muggles in appearance, succeed nevertheless to attend Hogwarts and practise magic like every wizard?'  
'I... I don't know, professor.'  
'Muggles gave a name to that phenomenon. It's called genetic; compatibilities inside of each being, a mix of both parents. As red and blue give purple. It's possible that you mother possesses something tiny inside of her that reveals itself plainly when combined with wizard blood. Like your father's.'

The headmistress stretched her hand to ask for the parchment in Kate's hands, nearly creasing between her fingers' contraction.

'How could I know?' she squeaked.  
'You can't.'

She turned pale at McGonagall's sharp words.

'Why?'.  
'We all are living a life of mysteries, Miss Whisper. We don't know our future, we are always determined to find a meaning to it and that's what pushes us to go on, at all costs. You must have seen believers, in the Muggles community, religious as they call themselves, who search for a sort of God, during their whole lives. It's like that. We don't always have the answers we wish for.'

After she put back the parchment, McGonagall stopped in front the impressed, however disillusioned, little girl.

'Despite the reasons that pushed you to break the rules and stroll in the school in the middle of the night in spite of your professors' and prefects' warnings, you will be sent be in detention...'

Kate swallowed difficultly, her tight throat preventing her from saying a word or even breathing properly. A detention... What would her parents say if they leant? 'That was about time! Welcome to the family, kiddo!' her father would surely exult. However, her mother's reaction would be less more positive.

'Now, I will ask you to go back to your dormitory. And may Filch never catch you again or I will be much more rigorous and inclined to execute the things he promised you...'  
'You don't... take me points?'

Kate immediately regretted her words that came out by themselves, noticing the headmistress blackened look.

'My former head of house's heart would break if I had to take points to the house that kindly hosts you and to which you show so little respect. It doesn't deserve such a waste...'

After a slight nod, Kate left the headmistress' office in a pace revealing her precipitation. Then, McGonagall took place in her seat, which back was surmounted with golden ornaments, and sighed while Kate's little steps were reverberating in the staircase that led to the corridors. Then, she sorted out her papers that were strewed over her desk with a move of her wand and took a blank one before she seized her eagle feather and wrote:

 _"_ _Dears Mr and Mrs Whisper,_

 _Following your recent letter, I want to reassure you that your daughter's scholarship is working out in excellent conditions and without any notable incident for her classmates. If I may ask, Mr. and Mrs., I would like, however, some missing information about Kate..."_

* * *

A few days later, Kate received the indications about her detention; message she greeted with apprehension. What thankless task will she have to do? Polish up the Quidditch badges and cups with a Muggle sponge? Repot the carnivorous plants? Prepare and marinate the bats' livers? Check the cleanliness of Blast-Ended Screwts' cages? Clean Miss O'Joovens' huge dark tapestries and perfume them with blood? Kiss Filch for so-called loyal services to the school, as suggested by Moira? In the best case, do her detention with Harry Potter! His last practical lessons had been so fascinating that a detention with him would immediately become a true moment of happiness, especially because the young teacher wasn't demanding, nor very authoritarian, but was having enough imposing presence, due to his status of saviour of the wizarding world, to be respected. Kate, however, regretted the last classes during which they had had to train in pairs their Expelliarmus. Of course, nobody had wanted to choose Kate, too afraid to see their wand exploding instead of slipping through their fingers! It was Dexter Doxmornt that the professor had indicated to be her binomial, because his stature, more important than his classmates' ones, would have compensate the damages that Kate could have inflicted him! But, to her great displeasure, Dorxmornt had appeared to be nothing but a coward, hiding each time that Kate had raised her wand. How could she improve herself if no one was giving her a chance?!  
After some time trying to wake up from her daydream, Kate removed the seal on the letter and unfolded the parchment. Her eyes opened widely when she read the name of the professor in charge for her detention:

'I feel less inclined to go...'

The four girls around her, enjoying the fire of the common room while playing or reading, raised their looks towards her.

'I have detention... with... Wolffhart!'

Instantly, taunts started:

'He'll turn you into a badger, just like he did with Harold Orchard last time, and he will ask you to wear a tutu and dance the jig!' said Suzanna. 'So, do you think he will accept if I ask him to assist to your detention in order to take a picture?'  
'I don't have a camera but could I come too?' laughed the little Moira, perched on the sofa, her feet not reaching the floor.  
'Don't take it lightly!' called to order Scarlett, soft and severe at the same time. 'If Kate had a detention, it's because she deserved it, and there's nothing funny about it...! No one should enjoy other persons' mistakes!'

Her classmates stared at her with a blasé look.

'Merlin's beard', grumbled Moira next to her, 'if you're not prefect when you're older, I think you missed your call... Or even ruined your life!'  
'That's Dennis Crivey who influences her, that's why!' mocked Suzanna, rocking back and forth, cross-legged on the thick carpet. 'Wohoooo! Love is in the air!'  
'No, no, no, it's not true!' denied Scarlett, flushing and hiding behind her red hair.  
'And don't you have anything to say about this?' asked Kate to Maggie, who didn't say a word about her friend's punishment.

Nevertheless, the latter was immersed in her thoughts, her gaze fixed on the fire. She wasn't totally there... Until she got up before saying in a monotonous voice:

'I'm going to bed.'

The four girls looked at Maggie climbing to the dormitory before sharing questioning looks.

'What's wrong with her?' asked Kate.  
'Food poisoning', presumed Moira, shrugging her shoulders. 'That's the only reason I see...'  
'I think she's offended...' added Suzanna, more pragmatic.  
'Offended? Why?'  
'Because of you, I think...'

Scarlett's answer gobsmacked the little girl.

'Of me? But... why? What did I do again?'  
'No idea. Maybe you should ask her...'  
'I don't see any reason why she could be mad at me!' rose up Kate. 'If she has a problem with me, she should come and talk to me!'  
'I think the chances Maggie would come to talk to you are as certain as hearing Wolffhart singing a nursery rhyme!' chuckled Moira.  
'Give her some time', Scarlett reasoned her, kindly. 'It will pass...!'

* * *

Thursday evening, after diner; that was when Kate's detention had been set by the headmistress. She had eaten her cabbage at maximum speed, had nearly choked on her pumpkin juice once again, and was now waiting in the courtyard of the main building. Being late for her first detention would have been very annoying... She had sat on a stone bench in front of the covered courtyard and the Transfiguration class door. Night had fallen and small blue fireflies had livened up into the bushes of the courtyard, illuminating them with tiny lights. The same charming scene was taking place in the night sky, where stars were shining like diamond glitters on a black velvet case.  
Very quickly, Kate caught herself to be bored, thinking that Wolffhart was probably still eating at that time. Hoping to distract herself, she took out her father's compass and put it on her laps. She made too few experiments with it, despite the item's preciousness. Sometimes, on some occasions, but the directions it had been indicating had seemed to fit with nothing... The combinations appeared to be too abstract for her yet.  
Kate tried her new possession, testing the symbols her father showed her. The fish, indeed, pointed out the fountain in the atrium, from which was streaming a crystal-clear water. The cake pointed out the Great Hall, where numerous students and professors were satisfying their hunger with tasty meals served by the house elves. Her heart racing, the little girl tried the combination of love: the hand and the heart. The compass' reaction was particularly surprising, when the big golden arrow started to turn on itself without stopping on a particular direction.

 _No wonder. Which boy with any common sense would ever love me...!_ thought Kate, sighing.

Then, she turned again the knob – the second coppery arrow, thinner than the first, staying on the hand –, pointing the exclamation mark. Immediately, the golden arrow stopped. And the numbers, close, reduced gradually.

'Kate?'

Called out, she suddenly raised her head. Right in the direction indicated by the compass, Maggie had appeared.

'I've been looking for you for half an hour! I nearly damaged my gorgeous shoes! What are you doing here?'

She approached her friend and, when she stopped in front of her, the numbers froze. There was no doubt: the compass was pointing out Maggie. Why? What could the combination with the exclamation mark mean?

'Well… I'm waiting for my detention with Wolffhart.'  
'Ah? Ok…'

Maggie seemed upset, which disturbed Kate.

'Why? What is it?'  
'I thought we could have go together to explode some toads tonight!'  
'Hem, no, that won't be possible', she grimaced. 'I doubt Wolffhart would let me go out early and I might be more punished if I miss detention!'  
'That's a shame…'

At Maggie's sigh, Kate couldn't help but frown.

'I thought you were mad at me?'  
'I still am. I thought the toads could have been a good reconciliation.'  
'… You're too temperamental, Maggie. That's… strange…'  
'And you only notice it now?!'

The little girl, sat on her bench, didn't dare to retort in front of Maggie's usual despicable tone.

'Have a good detention then!' she said in a cut-to-the-quick voice, before turning around on her heels and leaving.

Between wrath and habit, Kate just sighed: her friend's behaviour would never change. Except if she took a potion or if a cauldron fell on her head!  
A thunderous noise dragged her out from her meditation. And no doubt about it: it was coming from the Transfiguration classroom.

'Featherless owls' sake!' she squeaked, pale. 'I'm probably already late!'

And while Kate snatched her bag and rushed towards the classroom, she perceived more distinctly the impressive melody that was playing funeral music; or at least something not very happy and little reassuring! With such background music, Kate seemed to run towards her death!  
Her little fist knocked at the door, but she entered before someone invited her, supposing she couldn't have been heard with all this noise. The walls and the wooden tables were vibrating under the harmony the huge iron organs were playing. Wolffhart was standing in front of the keyboard, his long felt-coat hiding his seat and touching the floor. On several occasions, a fit of passion was making him raise his hands before pulling them down powerfully on his organ's keys. And so was he spreading, through brilliantly executed notes, a whole panel of emotions, as huge as indescribable.  
Kate moved forward in the alley, her bag squeezed against her chest, in a pace she hoped to be quiet; which stopped before she reached the stage. Despite the deafening noise, the little girl found herself very quickly enthralled by the track played by her professor. How could someone as cold, stern and unscrupulous as him transmit so many disturbing sensations through simple notes?  
The last chord of the track resounded a long time into the room, before dying out as fast as a beat of wings. Kate was about to announce her presence when her professor turned on his seat, his hands on his long laps.

'Fräulein Whisper, you're late…'  
'I was waiting in front of the door, professor…' she stammered, terrified at the idea of having to do her detention turned into a lizard. 'I… I didn't know you were already here!'

Wolffhart raised one of his pepper and salt eyebrows above a judgemental look, letting three wrinkles appear on his forehead. Ouch! That was bad!

'Das ist nicht ersnt' he said in a deep sigh while standing up and adjusting his clothes and his red scarf around his neck. 'Follow me…'

He walked around the organ and went towards a door hid by the woodwork and the frescoes.

'Close the door behind you, bitte…'

When Kate followed him inside, she wasn't expecting to find a narrow and dark spiral staircase, lit by big white candles inside gothic style recesses. The cold, chalky stones were reflecting the light of the flames in a weak glowing orange and porous light. The air was stale, oppressing. Wolffhart's shadow was starting to get ahead of her while she was trying not to fall on the high, worn by centuries, steps.  
The new Transfiguration teacher's office was the first one Kate ever saw with her own eyes. The windows were overlooking the walls of the castle and the large patch of grass boarding the lake, shimmering in the light of the moon, on the green square where Mrs Hooch was giving to first years their first flying lessons. The forbidden forest was bounding the dark and frightening horizon. The small room was cluttered with furniture and decorative objects. To Kate's greatest surprise, some of them were moving by magic, like this console that was preparing tea with its two animated legs. Or even this harpsichord with ebony keys that was playing by itself a classical music track, like the ones her mother listens to when her father isn't imposing his electric guitars. Given the numerous photos that were covering the wall, under a banner with the colours of his native Germany, Kate started to question about her professor's age… He went to so many countries, discovered so many lands. In the castles of the East hunting vampires, in Greece tracking a manticore, in India, China, Peru, Mexico, Japan… Each portrait was representing him in his different expeditions.

'Nepal, 1949.'

Kate made a U-turn while her professor, standing still next to his window, his face distorted by the only light of the candles, was commenting on the picture she was staring at since a few seconds.

'But I'm not in a good mood to explain to you the reason that made me ride this white dragon, typical of this country, so, sit. Jetzt.'

His voice was so hoarse and authoritarian, emphasized by his continental accent, that Kate obeyed while shaking, frightened. Her lips pinched, her eyes down, she moved in small, quick steps towards the professor's varnished desk and took place in the big uncomfortable seat, the armrests ending with a billy goat's head. Until she noticed Wolffhart's dark and piercing look above her, fixing her with too much insistence to be considered normal, while she was waddling on the wood, trying to find a comfortable position.

'When I told you to sit', he hissed while raising an eyebrow, 'Fräulein Whisper, I meant on a chair that is yours… Not in the professor's one. You sat on the wrong side of my desk. Join your true place, please…'

Mortified, Kate mumbled some excuses and jumped up before walking around the desk, sitting at the right place. Wolffhart did the same after he checked she didn't damage his beautiful possession.

'Professor McGonagall told me about the act that led you here, Fräulein Whisper. And I insisted on taking in charge your detention personally …'

He was pronouncing these words in a slow and detached rhythm, while making objects slide on the desk towards Kate: a china cup, an old pair of scissors and a dirty magnifying glass. Without understanding the interest of this absurd game, Kate was hung upon her professor's every word while pinching her lips in order to prevent him from seeing her uncontrollable trembling.

'Before I explain to you what your detention will be about, a question gnaws at me and I would like you to enlighten me…'

He inclined his head and moved up his chin. That close and with so little light, Wolffhart was having the same dark gaze as a crazy man, his purplish eyelids stretched by his large eye-socket, his hollow cheeks contracting at each grin.

'Your headmistress also told me that you went into a room in the library called… the Restricted section? Whatever. Just so I know; having visited that library when I arrived at Hogwarts, this door… it's sealed. By magic. How did you manage to open it?'

So that's where he wanted to get: get informed about Kate's progression in magic. McGonagall didn't note this mystery. It disturbed the little girl that her professor had remembered that tiny detail.

'By magic', she swallowed. 'With my wand… and the unlocking spell professor Flitwick had taught us.'  
'By magic', repeated Wolffhart in a chuckle while moving backwards, pushing himself with his hands flat on the desk. 'Ich hätte alles gehört…'

Despite her gaps in German, Kate understood by his tone that he didn't believe her.

'I'm not lying, professor', she stuttered.  
'So, in classes, you're incapable of casting anything if not lethal and harmful to the furniture projectiles, but when it comes to do mischief, you succeed! As… as if by magic, that's saying something!'

Many were the objections Kate would have wanted to retort at that exact moment, yet, the terror that the teacher was exercising on her was forcing her to keep silent.

'That's what we'll see…'

He rose up and walked a few steps aside, until he stopped behind Kate, transfixed.

'In my native Germany, or even elsewhere in the world, a lot of students are given silly punishments. Lines to write, to repeat until they get blisters on their hands…'

His knotty fingers winded around the wooden back of Kate's seat.

'Tonight's exercise won't be that different… You will have to write as much lines as possible, until I allow you to go: "I won't sneak around in a dangerous place in the middle of the night".'

Having feared much worse, Kate caught herself sighing, before she realised she had no parchment, no ink and no quill provided…

'But, professor…!' she stammered while suddenly turning back.  
'I hope you have followed my last lessons', whispered Wolffhart, dantesque.  
'Yes… yes…'

That's when she understood the game about the objects under her nose: he was subjecting her to a practical exercise; because in order to realise this task, she will first have to turn them into writing instruments…

'Be warned, Fräulein…' he said while returning to the window. 'I don't intent to let you out of this room until I don't get satisfaction. And I'm ready to keep you here for days if I have to, as long as I don't have your lines…'

Deep inside, Kate felt a profound wrath boiling. How could he act with her so ungratefully? Put her to test like this, going as far as threatening her? She had believed in his speech about trust. She thought she had found an excellent teacher who turned out to be, actually, just a torturer who wanted to see her bend and execute spells like everyone else…

'And if any harm is done to my desk, I let you imagine what could happen to you…'

Terrorized at the idea of really being turned into a lizard, Kate hurried to take her wand and pointed its end towards the three objects, trying to calm her breath and her racing heart.

' _M-mat… materia…_ '

Her stammered words scattered on her lips. Her concentration was pushed aside by her fear that was seizing her insides. But was it really the punishment she was afraid of or the deception, as Wolffhart was observing the scene with an attentive look under his thick frowned eyebrows.

' _Materia scri… scri…_ '

If she, unfortunately, came to pronounce the spell wrong, the desk would go up in smoke, without any doubt. She had only one try.

' _Materia… materia… scri…_ '  
'Scheisse!' Wolffhart suddenly shouted out. 'Do it!'

Her heat stuck in her throat and tears at the edge of her eyes, Kate couldn't articulate.

'I… I can't, professor…!' she squeaked while her wand was oscillating at the rhythm of her shakings of panic. 'I can't!'  
'Yes you can!' he yelled without restraint.

The fists he crashed down on the desk made her jump and she didn't hold back her tears anymore, terrified. His guttural voice was reverberating into his student's upside-down mind:

'If you don't do it, now, I promise you, Fräulein, that I will ensure your transfer into a Muggle school! If you can't do magic, you have nothing to do here!'

Kate wanted to yell, to run away. She was feeling locked up in her own body, forced to fail. However, in the heat of panic, she tightened her grip on her wand while sobbing her spell:

' _Mate… ria…_ '

She frowned under the effort of her intense concentration while Wolffhart was scolding terrible swears in his native language and better not to know what that meant…

' _Materia… scri…_ '

Yet, she didn't feel comfortable. She wasn't confident. Even though she was doing everything she could, applying herself, she knew it wouldn't work. That pressure was so hard to bear. A bottomless wrath was growing in her.  
She wanted to go… She wanted to shout… She wanted him to disappear… At any costs…  
Until a surge of anger took over: Kate threw her wand on the floor, this one rolling under a piece of furniture after it rebounded on the parquet, before she stretched her hands above the table:

' ** _Materia scribens!_** '

Her scream reverberated a long time into the professor's office. Instantly, the objects in front of her took the shape of a quill, an ink bottle and a parchment. But the spell spread and touched one by one, the different items in the room. Every accessory became a victim of the enchantment. The teapot, the piled books, the earthen pots, the glasses, the partitions… Everything turned. Into a quill, an ink bottle, a parchment…  
A complete silence fell on the room while Kate was getting back on her feet, amazed by her own performance.

'Name eines zersetzten Drachen…'[2] swore Wolffhart in a breath, impressed.  
'What… What happened?'  
'Other than ruining my furniture…! Well… so… gut…'

The professor himself was lacking of explanations in front of this phenomenon he wasn't probably expecting.

'I succeeded…' she chanted, short-breathed and swallowing her tears. 'I did it… Without my wand…!'

While the little girl was congratulating herself for her achievement, Wolffhart bent, grabbed his student's wand and handed it over to her.

'Don't lose this…'  
'But… I don't need it!'  
'The poor innocent victims of this office are saying the contrary, glauben sie mich…' he qualified. 'Remember what I told you last time. Your wand channels your magic…'  
'It only provokes catastrophes…'  
'Are you sure?'

Student and professor shared a brief glance before he dismissed her in a curt tone:

'Go.'

Kate had a hiccup before he added:

'Next time, you will do your lines. But I think you have had enough emotions for tonight.'

How, by Merlin, was she doing to always avoid by a hair, true punishments? She didn't ask herself too long before disappearing, letting a helpless Wolffhart in the middle of his transfigured office. Wrinkles dug his forehead. There was no doubt for him that Kate had magic. But she had… just too much.

* * *

[1] The existence of a quill that writes the future students' names has never been proved in the books, however, JK Rowling mentionned it...  
[2] I invite you to do some translations of Wolffhart's sentences. They're quite mythical!


	8. Blood in the glebe

Hello !

The chapter comes a bit early because I'm going to London tomorrow and won't be able to publish from here. Also, since my computer is dead, I'm publishing from my mobile so I'm sorry if I left some mistakes, I will fix it as soon as I come back on Thursday !

Hope you'll enjoy it anyway !

* * *

8\. Blood in the glebe.

Small whispers were rustling around her head, as heavy as a pumpkin.

'Do we wake her up? Tell me, do we wake her up? I'm tired of waiting!'

'Shhh! You will wake her up!'

'I think that's the point here...'

Catching some snatches of the secret conversation, Kate frowned while pulling the covers against her, before blinking her eyes several times and seeing her four friends gathered and bent above her. This vision, not very usual on waking, immediately made her open wide eyes, still heavy with tiredness, a hiccup stuck in her throat. All of them were showing a large smile of satisfaction.

'Happy birthday!'

Their clamour was such that Kate straightened her back, between dread and bliss, without helping herself from having a cheerful smile. Because today, the 8th of March, little Kate was celebrating the beginning of her twelfth year in the world.

Moira, who had literally climbed on the bed in order to be high enough, was the first to hand over a little package:

'Me first!'

'It's for me?' choked Kate, who wasn't expecting such a surprise.

'If you're not happy, I'll be glad to take your place!' mocked Maggie with a sly smile.

Her words were greeted by a unanimous blasé look from her roommates, until Kate decided to unwrap her first gift packed in a rush, in a Daily Prophet's old edition.

'Oh! Drooble's Best Blowing Gums! Thanks, Moira!'

'You're welcome! If you could stick one from time to time in Maggie's hair, you'd do me a favour!'

'Oh, I hope you won't leave them lying around in the room!' panicked Scarlett in a small voice, always that fastidious about their dormitory's state. 'That thing is impossible to unstick!'

'My turn! My turn!'

Suzanna imposed her gift that was actually, just a drawing paper where roughly lined and animated chaps were representing Kate and her friends, training her to spells, always sold out by a huge explosion, making them fly around, and their hair in flames.

'Haha! Thanks Suzanna', chuckled Kate as amused as acrid. 'I will hang it up in my room, at my parents'.'

Then, it was Scarlett's turn, her gift better wrapped than Moira's...

'It's a magical rubber', she explained when Kate questioned her in a look about the slightly soft item, the shape of a broomstick, as big as a finger. 'It can erase ink. It's very useful for homework! It will prevent you from burning your parchment by trying to correct yourself with a spell!'

'Ah, well... thanks!' stammered Kate, who wasn't expecting that last remark, hurtful, once again.

Deep inside and despite their kindness, Kate promised herself that if the last gift had something to do with her incompetence; she would say what she thinks once and for all. Yet, when she received the present from Maggie, so small and insignificant by its size, she didn't expect to receive a gorgeous golden hair slide, its round extremity ending with a tiny Golden Snitch with wings as tiny as a fly's ones.

'It's the same as mine', she pointed out indicating the one that was maintaining her short dark blonde hair and showing off badly arranged curls.

'It's very pretty...!' assured Kate while putting the hair slide on a rebellious, recalcitrant lock. 'Thanks a lot...'

Then, the young girl extricated herself from the sheets and got up from bed, before going away to get dressed. Surprised by her so little cheerful behaviour despite her birthday, her friends consulted, whispering:

'What's happening to her?'

'Do you think our gifts didn't please her?'

'She seems almost sad...'

Since her detention with Wolffhart, Kate's innocent mischievousness had faded away and her Gryffindor mates had noticed it. But that particular day, the little girl seemed much more lost...

After a lonely breakfast, Kate went on the sunny banks of the lake, carrying her drawing kit her mother had offered her for Christmas. Sat on the green grass on the eve of spring, she was drawing the curves of the hills with her pencil and the line of the lake, quivering under the morning breeze. This drawing seemed to be Kate's last option to run away from her obsessive thoughts. Her experience with Wolffhart had wreaked havoc on all the ideas about magic she had. About her own abilities. And her professor's words, who suggested she was a sort of hidden Squib who didn't deserve her place at Hogwarts, were keeping on reverberating in her mind. Wolffhart wasn't completely wrong... How could she naïvely continue her scholarship if she wasn't able to cast a proper spell without having to be threatened or under pressure? This couldn't last seven years...

'Kate?'

Despite the little voice's call, Kate didn't turn. Morgana took place next to her friend, whose face was half snuggled up in her plum scarf. They both stayed quiet for a moment, while Kate was darkening the shadows of the hills on her drawing.

'I was looking for you everywhere...'

'How did you find me?' grumbled Kate.

'That's the point: by looking for you... Something's wrong?'

Her Slytherin friend's accommodating tone pushed her to confidence:

'I hate that day...'

'But... it's your birthday!'

'I don't like my birthday... not anymore.'

Morgana darkened her look under her thin black eyebrows, endowing her with her icy stare.

'Why? Did one of your birthdays go wrong?'

Kate's lines became more intense, harder, more frenetic, as if she was transmitting all her emotions through her pencil.

'One year ago', she articulated with difficulty, 'I spent my birthday in a cellar, in Graveson.'

Morgana nodded, respectful and attentive at her friend's speech.

'I didn't have gifts. I didn't eat that day. No gifts, no candles. On my birthday night... that's when the Death Eaters came into the house...'

'Is that what you told us about at the beginning of the year, during Harry Potter's first lessons?'

Kate slowly nodded, quietly staring into space while remembering this painful episode of her short life.

'On my last birthday, I saw death. And my father was almost killed... After that day, I told myself I should never were born, that 8th of March. That my parents should have fled together without endlessly having to look after a kid. A kid incapable of casting a proper spell... We have been tracked down, hunted like beasts. I hate my birthday. Now, it reminds me that I should never have existed instead of seeing what I saw. When I arrived at Hogwarts, I was so happy. I thought that I could finally learn to protect myself, to protect my parents in turn, as they did for me. I'm embarrassing myself. I'm embarrassing them. I am capable of nothing... Everyone is so nice to me when I don't deserve it...'

'Yes, you do...'

Kate's watery eyes met Morgana's steely ones, impassive.

'You don't realize how much you're helpful, humble... Look, you accepted me as a friend, you're not afraid of me, you don't have prejudices, while everyone only sees the daughter of a condemned to Azkaban Death Eater in me. You're able to put up with Maggie while everyone else think she's a pest. And Moira, you accept her to teach you spells while people make fun of her because of her size. You never made a fool of anyone. You reach out to others and take them as they are. That's rare quality, even rarer than magic in our world. I don't know you as a defeatist or fatalist. Always a fighter.'

Then, she took out of her cape's pocket, a little purple paper butterfly.

'You have to tell yourself that now, your birthday is not anymore the cellar in Graveson where you were locked up; but something you celebrate with your friends now... Don't let your past consume you, the future will always be better...'

The paper butterfly shook its wings to take off and fluttered in the air before landing into Kate's shaking fingers. On the whole contour of its wings, in black calligraphy letters, a single word was repeatedly written: "friendship". Kate's heart swelled with emotion.

'We're here for you, Kate... Happy birthday.'

Moved to tears, the young girl casted herself into Morgana's arms to show her how much this touched her deep inside. A bit surprised at first place, Morgana still shared this hug. She wasn't used to share such proofs of friendship with others; she only had lived in view of being and staying a pure-blood and had never learnt anything else than keeping distance with people.

Morgana gave a hint of a smile while moving away from Kate, who removed with the back of her hand, the tears that were rolling down her cheeks, as much for the sadness of the past than for the happiness of the present.

'Would you like to come with me to the next saturday Quidditch match?' asked the girl with the green tie. 'For us to be in the same terraces...!'

'Even if it's Gryffindor against Slytherin?' said Kate in a hiccup.

'We'll support our teams! That could be fun!'

'Well... I hope you're not as sore-loser as Maggie is!'

* * *

Unfortunately for the two teams that were about to face each other, a pouring rain had tumbled down on the castle the day of the match. The cold and violent wind was giving a rough ride to the umbrellas the students had brought with them, hoping to protect themselves from the bad weather. The most cowards would rather be in their warm dormitories, but attends the matches being mandatory; they had to face it, alongside the brave ones. Everyone hoped, however, that it would only be a question of a few minutes. And so, a lot of Gryffindors had their hopes on Ginny Weasley's Seeker skills. Some had even offered her gifts to encourage and motivate her to catch the Snitch faster!

At the Gryffindors' table, the morning of the match, first years were making forecasts:

'With such weather, I don't think our players will succeed in finding their ways', muttered Moira.

'They don't have a lot of experience but that doesn't mean they're blind!' reminded Scarlett.

'But we don't care about that! Slytherin are cowards and bad losers! We are sure to win!'

'I love your arguments, Suzanna!' Moira supported her.

'Morgana told me their Seeker wasn't that bad and they have an excellent formation of Chasers.'

'Sorry to question your words, Kate, but I don't trust Slytherins!' chuckled Suzanna. 'I'd rather think they're useless who will loose anyway! I remind you that on the last match against Ravenclaw, their clumsy Beaters found very funny to confuse their facers heads for Bludgers!'

'And you, Maggie, what do you think?'

Scarlett's interrogation didn't get to the young girl, her gaze fixed on her beans plate. Maggie seemed deep in her thoughts.

'Maggie!'

'Huh? What?'

She suddenly raised wide opened eyes and her friends noticed how pale she was.

'Something's wrong?' Kate cared about, worried and accommodating, while bending towards her.

'No, no! I'm okay!'

'I think Miss Spoiled is afraid to take a beating!' mocked Moira.

'No, no, not at all', she hurried to answer, without even bothering to retort, as she would have usually.

Then, on these half chewed words, she got up from the bench.

'I-I gotta go! I'll meet you later, at the match!'

The four girls didn't react immediately, seeing their friend walking away in tentative steps. Their heads inclined towards the corridor, they gazed-tracked Maggie leaving.

'She didn't even finish her meal!' pointed out Scarlett.

'Perfect, give it to me; I will finish it at her place!' exclaimed Moira, while asking for it with a move of her hand, her too short arm preventing her from reaching it.

'Maggie's really weird these days', sighed Suzanna. 'I preferred her when she was unbearable, she was way funnier...'

In front of her friends' remarks, Kate just stayed quiet, her eyes still fixed on the Great Hall's big doors through which Maggie had left. Her behaviour was very suspicious. There was no doubt she was hiding something from them...

As promised, Morgana and Kate went together to the match. The latter accepted in good heart to join the Slytherins' side, having no really assigned house, as Morgana's presence at the Gryffindors' side would have triggered a real bustle...

'He would have been very mad at me if he had seen me among you', pointed out Morgana, while indicating with her chin Hagrid's impressive silhouette, very visible from their vantage point, carrying a banner in favour of the Gryffindors.

'He doesn't like you?'

'He doesn't like my father, consequently... You know, when my father fought at the battle of Hogwarts, Hagrid hit him and sent him against a wall... That's how they caught him to send him in Azkaban after a month at St Mungo's for care of grievous body harm...'

Kate grimaced, not knowing what to answer to that. The two girls sat next to two Slytherin mates of Morgana; Calypso Curtiss, who was holding a wide dark green umbrella, gleaming with water, granted her with a dark look when Kate settled down next to her, while Juno Nightingal was already spiritedly shaking a little green flag, under the other students' mocking looks. Despite her cheerfulness and her obvious sympathy, Juno had became the scapegoat of her own housemates since the Sorting Hat's repartition and, according to Morgana, the elders had been giving her a hard time until Calypso decided to stay constantly with her to ensure her protection. She told her that, one day, they had put magic glue on her pillow and her hair had had to be cut and re-grown. Juno bent when she saw Morgana and Kate coming:

'Hey! Whisper! It's good to see you with us! Welcome in the Slytherins' terraces!'

'Thanks Nightingal!' Kate smiled from ear to ear.

'It's a shame the weather's so bad!'

'Kate?'

A voice called her from the top of the terraces: she was surprised, when she turned back, to see Terry, bent over the guardrail and already soaked to the bones.

'Terry?! What are you doing here?'

'I have to talk to you for a minute!'

Kate apologized to the young Slytherins and climbed at maximum speed towards Terry. Given his tense face and his awkward grin, he seemed worried.

'What's happening?'

'Maggie... she's disappeared!'

'What?!'

'I'm looking for her everywhere since earlier! At first, I just thought she was afraid of making another bet... but I can't find her! Nobody knows where she is!'

Very annoyed, Kate meditated, scanning the terraces with a look, while the other students were irritated, having to wait for the beginning of the match under the pouring rain.

'I haven't seen her either since earlier...! We separated at breakfast! She was very weird...!'

Terry bit his lips, shaking his head.

'I'm going to keep on looking for her', he decided.

'Maybe she's still in the castle...!'

'I don't hope so... Still. Perhaps we're worrying for nothing!'

Then, he took off as fast as he had appeared, while Kate came back to the Slytherin first years, having to apologize to Lawrence Prince and Amy Rosier in order to pass through as they looked at her with a nasty look. That's when the teams entered the pitch, under the acclamations of the crowd. A powerful clamour rose from the red and gold terraces and was shared between two categories: the unanimous encouragements "Weasley is our queen!" and the ecstatic yells of young girls "Gaaaaaaale, we love you!"

'They're so stupid...' sighed Morgana who almost felt sorry for them, raising one of her dark slender eyebrows above her despaired look.

'They're a bit ridiculous, yes...' admitted Kate, smiling.

'Yet, I think they have good tastes!' intervened Juno. 'Even your Keeper's little brother who is in our class, I find him cute! Actually... it's not difficult to find him cute!'

'Juno, you think everything is cute', reminded Calypso with a deep and monotonous voice, her eyes on her team, in an impeccable, motionless posture.

'That's true! But still! Gale junior is very attractive! Don't you think, Whisper?'

Thinking of Griffin's charming smile, Kate couldn't help herself but suddenly blush.

'Yes, yes, maybe...! And he's very nice!'

'... The Quaffle is launched, here we go!' rang out the commentator's euphoric yell. 'And it's Greengrass who catches it, avoiding her assailants by a hair...!'

'Yay', said Calypso, as indifferent as a proud cat. 'Another match during which we'll have to stand her silly comments...'

Curious, Kate turned towards Morgana, knowing she would have the answer of her question:

'Do you know who the commentator is?'

'Rose Zeller, Hufflepuff, fourth year. She a fanatic of the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team and she comments the matches since last year.'

'That's crazy how much things you know!'

'That's crazy how you know nothing about life at Hogwarts...!'

'... You win a point!'

Then, after ending this short conversation about the commentator who was rhapsodizing about everything and nothing, especially about each lock of hair Gareth Gale shook, Kate took out a pair of Omnioculars of her bag, which provoked her mates' surprise:

'I didn't know you have Omnioculars, Whisper!' marvelled Juno. 'Could you lend them a little to me after?'

'It's Maggie who lent them to me', she grimaced, 'I don't think she would be happy to know that I...'

'Everyone knows that Dawkins is able to check the fingerprints of those who took her Omnioculars', interrupted Morgana, derisive. 'And then burn their underwear...'

'No, no, it's not that!'

The match was up to the students' expectations and worth the wait under the rain a Saturday morning of March. Even if the less fond of Quidditch were already moaning about the duration of the match, that had begun just five minutes ago, because they wanted to go back as soon as possible in the castle and dry around their common room's fireplaces.

'Robin is heading right towards the hoops! Oh, I just can't, what a suspense! She passes to Danielson who shoots and... scores!'

Kate, who was about to applaud, found herself in the middle of the Slytherins' boos and preferred to retract, afraid to face the backlash of the house with the snake. It was certainly very hard to take on the Slytherin colours when you were a Gryffindor by adoption!

But, gradually, the match lost importance to her eyes while the mystery around Maggie's disappearance was still spinning in her mind. Her eyes in the Omnioculars, she explored every terrace, searching for her friend. She started with the Ravenclaws, the least delighted by the match. No trace of Maggie. Then, the Gryffindors. The bunch of her three friends appeared under Hagrid's stature, all busy shouting out in order to encourage their team, without caring about Maggie's absence next to them. After a small moment of deviation contemplating Griffin's little face, sat between Jason Watson, the black boy who was the last with Kate on the day of the repartition, and Evan McAllister, an already tall boy with brown hair, known for his exceptionally green eyes, Kate changed of terrace. The Hufflepuffs' ranks were rather lively, despite the fact that their team wasn't playing today. They always were excellent spectators. Joris Juffbigles was, once again, giving himself over some traffic in the middle of his housemates, some of them supporting the team of the lion, others, the snake's one. Away from his mates, Terry still seemed worried: obviously, he didn't find Maggie yet...

'Oh! But what's happening?!'

Drew away from her searches by the commentator's scream, Kate tacked her Omnioculars and looked at what was happening on the pitch.

'Seems like Ginny Weasley is having trouble! Is the wind too strong?!'

When she finally managed to set the vision of the small advice, Kate saw Ginny's red silhouette manhandled from right to left, while she was clutching on the handle with all her strength to try to keep it straight, her face grimacing. Her lips were moving, pronouncing severe yet panicked words. But in fact, it wasn't so much the wind that was giving her a rough ride; it seemed that her broomstick wasn't responding anymore, as crazy as a mad, badly tamed horse.

'It's not the wind...' breathed Kate.

'What? How could you know?' wondered Morgana, her pale face soaked by the rain, her black hair stuck on her skin.

'Her broomstick is cursed!'

It took one more powerful gust of wind for Ginny to fall off her broomstick, succeeding to catch it with just one hand while it was keeping on flying in no precise direction, alternating peaks of speed and violent brakes.

'Merlin's beard, she really will fall!' kept on yelling the commentator, panicked. 'My poor little heart is weakening! She has to get back on before Harper catches the Snitch! Oh no...! Pills just sent a Bludger towards her! I don't wanna see that, I don't wanna see that!'

Straight after she ended her sentence, the Bludger struck Ginny's head; she let go of her broomstick and fell in free-fall, unconscious. The crowd rose up, unanimous, screaming in panic. Everything happened so fast, under the downpour and the snarling gust of wind that nobody managed to intervene to prevent her from falling...

'Oh my god!' screamed Kate, her hands on her mouth, her heart strongly beating into her chest.

Ginny Weasley was lying on the ground, inert, her Quidditch glasses broken and crooked on her head, and the grass around her turned red. The spectators were pushing each other on the terraces, crying and screaming, while some Slytherin were stupid enough to snigger in spite of the seriousness of the situation. The Gryffindor players abandoned the match for a moment to help their Seeker, no matter if their opponents were taking advantage of it to score. When Mrs Hooch decided to whistle a time-out and ran towards Ginny. The public was holding his breath while some professors were going down. Kate was biting her fingers whereas some Slytherins around her were observing the scene, quiet, sometimes even worried, as it was the case for Juno:

'Is she dead? Oh no! Oh no! Tell me she's not dead! That's horrific!'

Mrs Hooch rose up quickly and moved her arms widely above her head: the match was suspended. Immediately, stretch-bearers came on the pitch and took Ginny Weasley, carrying her with the greatest care, while her teammates, anxious, were following her despite Mrs Hooch's orders. The prefects started to claim for peace into the ranks and organized the exit of the stadium.

'Her broomstick has been cursed!' maintained Kate while they were crossing the park to come back to the castle.

'No, Whisper, it was the wind!' retorted Juno, surprised. 'You saw how strongly it was blowing!'

'No, no, it wasn't the wind, that's impossible!'

'And how do you know that?' asked Morgana, interested.

'She wasn't controlling anything anymore! I saw it with Maggie's Omnioculars! Someone has planned all that! Someone has tried to kill her!'

'The plan was good, maybe it worked', said Calypso in her usual deep, monotonous voice, pragmatic and horribly cynical at the same time.

* * *

Kate was keeping turning over what she saw during the match, curled up on the comfortable and quilted sofa of the Gryffindor common room. Maybe the only one who have seen the scene as it really happened. A pouring rain was still crashing on the windows like her thoughts assailing her mind. She wasn't shivering under her wet clothes. The flames in the fireplace seemed to be the only thing giving life to her grey eyes, as sharp as a blade, in which they were reflecting. This silence was too much for her... She had to exude it.

Without taking her eyes off of the fire, she adjusted her tie and rose up, decided not to shut up. She seemed to be setting aside all her elders, anxious because of the drama to which they had assisted, while she left the common room. Her pace was moderate, fast and calm at the same time and her brown curls, still wet, were rebounding on her shoulders at each step. She might be a first year, a houseless, incapable of casting a common spell like everyone, but she had a voice. A voice she was willing to be heard, once and for all. Put the afraid and naïve Kate in a cupboard and already begin to take her responsibilities, down from her twelve years.

A considerable crowd was obstructing the entrance of the infirmary, everyone wanting to know their schoolmate's state; some because of the sincere esteem they had for her, others just to glean the slightest piece of information that could feed the rumours running in the castle between students. Immediately, Kate's self-confidence took a hit, but didn't fall apart. She tried to take advantage of her small size to thread her way between her elders, but she found herself quickly crushed.

'Let me through!' she shouted with all the breath in her lungs.

'You don't have to yell at us!' sharply retorted a Ravenclaw student with a black bun.

'Who do you think you are? Who are you to want to pass through like that!' resumed one of her friends with a difficult character.

'Go back to your dormitory and sleep, loser!' continued one of her neighbours, starting to push her backwards.

Kate didn't want to give up, not in front of such stupid and rude persons, who were seeing in her just a parasite, too young to overshadow them. Her eyes squinted with discontent. In her craziest dreams, Kate always wanted to face her elders, claiming to her identity. But reality seemed a bit more difficult. She tried to resort to a subterfuge:

'You know that there's not only Ginny Weasley in this infirmary! I have to see a friend of mine!'

'Then come back later!' they laughed at her.

Kate felt a boiling rage rising up in her head, so powerful that she wanted to demean those morons in public. But how? The answer appeared to her instantly. Without even taking her wand out of her pocket, she just opened her fingers and focused, whereas her schoolmates had lost interest in her, trying to enter. A smoke of white light emerged in her palm and slipped down to the floor of the corridor. Then, it sneaked as fluid as a snake and climbed up on the leg of the student who had oppressed her, in order to reach his belt before wrapping around it; and, in a skilful sliding, she loosened the buckle.

Under the dazed look of his neighbours, the young man's trousers fell on his shoes, offering to everyone's sight beautiful boxer shorts with Golden Snitches patterns on it. The result was irrevocable: an unanimous giggle took hold of the crowd, while the boy, ashamed as never before, was trying to put his trousers back on, threatening to trip over his compromised balance.

'I-it's you! It's you who did this!' he spitted out to Kate, as red as a peony.

'No, of course not!' she smiled, raising her hands with an innocent look.

'You liar! You'll see what you...'

'Silence!'

The powerful voice that reverberated at the entry of the infirmary silenced the young man's cries of rage as well as the general laughs. Kate tensed up when she recognized the voice of one of her teachers, before catching a glimpse of him between two silhouettes.

'Now, go back to your dormitories', ordered Neville, strict and intimidating, as he wasn't very often seen, usually. 'And in silence!'

While the students scattered around, Kate tried to approach the professor Longbottom, pale and not very in the mood for jokes, given his set expression. Yet, it was the boy in boxer shorts who took the lead:

'Professor!' he began to complain. 'I...'

'Are you deaf, Ackerley?!' settled Neville. 'Go back to your common room, you have nothing to do here! And I take five points to Ravenclaw for exhibitionism!'

Not give up. Not now.

'Professor!' called out Kate while Neville was about to close the door behind him and Ackerley was going back to his classmates after he had thrown an acrimonious look to the young girl.

'Whisper, you are as concerned as the others, so don't make me repeat myself' he sighed, weary and authoritarian at the same time.

'I saw what happened, professor!'

'We all saw what happened... Now, please...'

'Ginny Weasley didn't fall because of the wind! I had Omnioculars! I saw everything! I promise!'

Speechless, Neville observed a moment his young student, who was begging him with a sincere look. He frowned, checked on his right and his left that nobody was looking before allowing her to enter the infirmary with a nimble nod.

The infirmary was a place Kate already had had the occasion to know thanks to many failed spells. Mrs Pomfrey's "Hello! Well, you didn't miss your shot, Miss Whisper!" gradually declined, until they became just sighs that could decently be translated by "You again? Aren't you tired of blowing your face off and testing your pyrotechnic skills? Well, sit down. I'll take care of you as fast as possible and then, you clear off, I don't want to see you anymore in my infirmary!" A translation system Kate had developed after her fifteenth time here.

Large white vaporous curtains were falling along the huge long windows. The smell was strong, but much more pleasant than in Muggle hospitals, noticed Kate. White canvas folding screens were separating the different beds, which weren't all occupied. But when she noticed the few persons, in which was Luna Lovegood who didn't took off her lion head to the great displeasure of Mrs Pomfrey, gathered around a couch, she assumed that Ginny was lying there. However, Neville's hand on her shoulder guided her and he took her aside for a moment.

'Well, I'm listening, Whisper... What did you see?'

'Is... Is she okay?' she squealed, worried.

Looking away, Neville grimaced, giving the impression that his already hanging jaw was falling down, and rubbed his rough cheek.

'Her life isn't in danger... But the Bludger and her fall caused many damages. A few days, maybe weeks, will be needed for her to fully recover...'

'I-I'm sorry... That's horrific!'

In front of Kate's upcoming tears, Neville preferred to push her to explain:

'I don't have much time for you, given the situation. So, be brief...'

Plainly, Kate told him in details what she had assisted to. She didn't forget any precision that was worth to be noticed... Once her story finished, Neville swallowed with stupor.

'If that is the case... if, as you told me, Ginny's... er... I mean, Miss Weasley's broomstick has really been cursed; it takes on quite a different proportion... That's a crime! If someone tried to attack her in that way...'

'As someone had enchanted the pumpkins on Halloween.'

The link Kate made impressed him.

'You think the person responsible for the Halloween incident could be the same at the origin of this accident?' thought Neville with an almost scolding look, crossing his large arms on his chest.

'That could be it, professor! It's the same kind of enchantment!'

'For now, we don't even have proofs to certify that it really was an enchantment against... Miss Weasley!'

'There is one way to be sure: ask her! Ask Ginny Weasley!'

'Miss Whisper, you don't seem to realize very well the situation...' he breathed while pulling a hand, with his fingers joined, out of his pocket. 'Weasley nearly lost her life... She's unconscious and no one knows for how long she'll stay like that!'

'One more reason to find the responsible!'

Kate's artless determination got the better of his attempts of rational explanations.

'Anyway, thank you for trusting me and having the courage to come and tell me everything, in the name of the truth. You would have made an excellent Gryffindor, Miss Whisper...!'

* * *

A Gryffindor, she wasn't. Or at least, she was pretending to be... That was what Kate was repeating herself while she was going back to her common room, passing through the passageway behind the Fat Lady's portrait. Avoiding her elders' gazes who were still sharing about the incident, Gareth Gale on the sofa surrounded by a bunch of admiring girls at his feet, telling them his version of the story, Kate regained her dormitory without saying a word. But when she opened the door and found herself in front of Maggie, suddenly reappeared from Merlin knows where, Kate tried to maintain the flood of questions and the flow of rage that were diffusing into her beating veins. The blonde girl turned around and addressed an embarrassed smile to her:

'Hey Kate! I'm kind of having the impression I landed in a world of craziness since earlier! Well, you'll tell me that crazy idiots are common here, at Hogwarts, but it's a whole new level there! Can you explain to me wh...'

'And you?!'

Kate's yell combined itself with the violent door slam, making Sir Sulkington jump, extracted from his sleep, his hair bristling and claws out.

'Can you explain where you were the whole time?!'

Never ever had Kate been so mad in front of Maggie, her face reddened with her evident rage that was brought out in every one of her sharp words. Maggie was so gobsmacked that she couldn't manage to formulate a proper answer:

'I-I... I...'

'What was this behaviour about, this morning?! Dropping us like that, the girls and I, without saying anything? Like that! And Terry, who had looked for you during the whole match! We were crazy worried! And you! You arrive uninvited?! When everything is over?!'

'Hey oh! Calm down, okay? Don't talk to me like th...

'I don't care about how I talk to you!' yelled Kate without abandoning her anger, while approaching Maggie. 'I'm starting to be fed up with this! You hear me?! I'm tired! I'm getting sick of it!'

'I-I believe you, but at least explain me why! There are plenty of reasons why you would be mad at me but...'

'Are you kidding me, Maggie?! Do you think it's normal to disappear and not come to the Quidditch match, where something really freaky is going on?!'

Maggie blemished, shaking, while Sir Sulkington was spitting out towards the two arguing girls, on his mistress' bed.

'Something freaky?'

'Strangely, you never are there when odd things come to happen! First Halloween, now Ginny Weasley...'

That's when she pronounced those words that Kate realized what she was saying. And yet, the truth was guiding her words: while everyone was present during Halloween as much as during Ginny's fall, Maggie had always arranged things so that she wasn't there at the moment of the incident...

'And now, will you explain to me what happened?!' heightened Maggie, while Kate had shut up, taken aback by her reasoning.

'I'm tired... Also tired of your lies, Maggie.'

'What?' she choked, offended.

But she hadn't had time to retort anything, as Kate had already turned her heels to go back to the common room, disgusted to have to spend one more minute alone with her roommate.

This same evening, Kate took her quill and undertook to write a letter to her father. She received his answer, transmitted by Littleclaws, a few days later:

" _[...]Normally, I'm not supposed to tell you all the possible combinations of the compass. I consider it's up to you to discover them throughout your experiences at Hogwarts, and I wish you to discover them all. However, I assume that you asking me about that precise combination isn't trivial. And I accept to give you its meaning because I know that's very important for you; especially in your situation. But from the moment you will have this letter, from the moment you will know what this combination means, you have to promise me you will be extremely careful… (although… this combination works also very well to warn you when Filch isn't far, trust me, I speak from experience!). If you set the first arrow on the hand, standing for the person, and the second one on the exclamation mark, that stands for a source of danger, I think it's useless to give you more precisions about what that means…"_

A person that could represent a danger; a threat…

The combination that had pointed out Maggie on the night Kate had her detention…


	9. In the eyes of the gytrash

Hello folks! Well... I'm really sorry to publish so late. Usually, I like to post on Monday, but with my travel to London last week, I lost a lot of time in my translation...

Anyway, here it is! Next one will arrive as usual, on Monday, I swear! ^^

Thanks again Emi for your beautiful comments and arts! I love watching them! Really! They're amazing!

Enjoy!

* * *

9\. In the eyes of the gytrash.

During days, even weeks, Kate didn't speak to Maggie, furious and horribly mistrustful at the same time. Could it be possible that Maggie was at the origin of those two incidents? But why? Furthermore, even though she was more talented than Kate in spells, which wasn't a great achievement in itself, Maggie wasn't a particularly brilliant witch either, capable of enchanting an army of pumpkins or programming the failure of a broomstick.  
In order to not compromise the atmosphere of her group of friends, Kate didn't tell her impressions and resentments to the first years Gryffindors who kept thinking it was the wind that was responsible for Ginny's fall. The latter didn't wake up yet. After a new, unfruitful day of researches at the library, Kate had accompanied Hermione at her friend's bedside. A large bandage was surrounding her head, like a headband around her red hair. Madam Pomfrey's ointment had erased the multiple bruises on her face, as well as the healer probably managed to overcome her broken ribs. However, Ginny remained sunk into what seemed to be an eternal sleep, her face expressionless. Kate had the impression to see Eliot again, in his hospital bed in St Mungo's...

'Neville, I mean... professor Longbottom told me what you said to him', whispered Hermione, without looking away from Ginny's frozen face. 'Do you really think someone casted a spell on her?'

Kate just nodded at first place.

'I even think I might know... who's responsible for this...'  
'Don't jump to conclusions', hissed Hermione, between severity and conciliation. 'It could play tricks on you...'

She stretched her lips in a brief grin, feeling the book on her laps.

'When I was in first year, just like you, somebody enchanted Harry's... I mean, Professor Potter's broomstick during a match. We all thought back then it was Severus Snape, the Potions master... because he had a serious beef against Harry! Against all Gryffindors in general... The truth is; Snape was trying to end the spell that had been casted by someone else. Even if he always seemed unpleasant, Snape was actually... a hero. Even I am having struggle saying it today! B-but that's the truth. Harry hated him during his whole scholarship while in reality, Snape had kept his cards hidden and had always protected him, until losing his life... What I am trying to make you understand, is that you can't judge a person's merits, just by appearances. And you may have a responsible, but your proofs against him have to be faultless.'

On these words, Kate preferred not to answer. Two risky absences and an old compass weren't unbreakable proofs to attest that Maggie had something to do with all this. She had to find something better... But did she really want to?

* * *

Spring arrived at the castle, making the grounds more attractive with its flowers and its verdant vegetation. The students were happy to enjoy their breaks under the fresh sun of April; as much as the first spring jokes, during which some poor souls found themselves thrown in the water or sprinkled with pollen!

Kate was observing the battles from greenhouse number 1, where she was attending Herbology. The gathered Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were listening carefully to professor Longbottom who was introducing them to the plant they were about to study on this day.

'The moly is a very important plant in the preparation of the Wiggenweld Potion, which is an antidote for the Draught of Living Death', he exposed while giving them glass jars. 'Since professor Slughorn intends to make you work on that potion this month, I think it's important that you know its constituents. Moreover, it will allow you to prepare your samples for your classes with him! Otherwise, the moly is able to cancel minor enchantments on someone if eaten as it is; which I don't recommend you, it has an awful taste... So...'

He turned back towards a small covered terrarium and took off the cover while all the students were bending over their big working tables. Big white corollas flowers, looking like lotuses, appeared under their eyes.

'It doesn't seem very dangerous, like that', pointed out Longbottom while carrying one of them on the bench tops. Yes, as it is, it's inoffensive. However, if you cut at the base of the petals, right there, where is this little brownish bulb, you may release its pollen, and I assure you that its side effects, although not very harmful, can be quite surprising! That's why you must stay careful. Good. Pick a partner; I will distribute one moly per binomial. You'll have to cut its petals one by one and put them in your group's common jar, and then, you'll be able to dissect it. For those interested, you can even keep its stem to make flutes!'

Immediately, students began to skitter, delighted at the idea of going out of classes with an item capable of driving Filch or the other professors mad! During the formation of the binomials, Kate turned towards her neighbour on the right, skilfully avoiding Maggie's demand: little Hygie Smethwyck looked at her with wide eyes.

'Let's be partners?' proposed Kate with a large smile.

Quietly, Hygie slowly nodded. Even if she was one of the first students Kate met in the Hogwarts Express, along with Maggie and Terry, the two girls never shared a conversation since the beginning of the year. To tell the truth, Kate never heard Hygie speaking by herself. The only words coming out of her mouth were the answers to her professors' questions. Except that, Hygie had the ability to disappear from the others' eyes. She was such a quiet and mute girl that everyone forgets her gradually. But she seemed to be happy with it, more blooming in the endless reading of her books than in social interactions with her schoolmates.

When professor Longbottom gave them the jar containing the flower, as big as their heads, Kate pulled on her dragon glove:

'Ok then, let's go!'

Conversations started gradually around the molys, but Hygie remaining irrevocably mute, Kate gave up the idea of discussing and observed one by one, the different groups around the bench top. Moira, too small to reach the plant, had had to climb on the table and, sitting cross-legged in front of Suzanna, was gossiping about the results of the last disastrous match of the Chudley Canons, while cutting petals with her pair of secateurs. Maggie fell back on a Ravenclaw industrious student, applied to her task, while the Gryffindor was trying to make her understand the importance of Omnioculars' exportation in East Europe. The first ones to accidentally explode the bulb were Jason Watson and Irwin Peakes, two Gryffindor boys, who started to cough in the middle of the ochre cloud loosened by the plant.

'Oh, oh', sighed professor Longbottom while shrugging his shoulders, knowing that it was impossible to proceed to a perfectly executed exercise. 'This was to be expected!'  
'Merlin, that stinks!' complained Irwin, coughing up and brewing the air in front of him.

But his shrill rigged voice got the better of the other students' seriousness, who burst out laughing, while the boy, whose short, curly blonde hair base was soaked with pollen, started to blush with shame. Next to him, Jason, affected by the comic effects of the moly himself, couldn't help but burst out with a tainted laughter, which doubled up the hilarity in the greenhouse. The inseparable duo of Evan and Griffin pierced in turn, but this time in a completely voluntary way, their moly's bulb to play scenes and parody their professors, all of this topped by rigged and ridiculous voices; which made the last girls, who didn't rise their heads from their works despite the first pollen emanation, laugh.

'Get back to work, boys, before I take you points!' Neville called to order with a scolding look, however amused by their role plays.  
'Yes, professor!' calmed down the two students with their mice's voices.

Folding over their bench top, Evan and Griffin shared a last, discreet chuckle, before resuming their collect of petals. However, Kate couldn't look away from Griffin and his mischievous face. He was cute... He was nice... Caring. He was funny...

A pull on her right sleeve reminded her of the reality: she turned towards little Hygie who half-opened her mouth:

'Cut... low...'

Her words, pronounced so low they were nearly imperceptible, impressed Kate, who was hearing the first words Hygie ever addressed her since they met.

'Eh?!' she answered.  
'She says that you're cutting too low. And that you might touch the bulb.'

Kate turned her head towards the boy in front of her, on the other side of the bench top; Emeric Beckett, the young Ravenclaw with rectangular edgeless glasses, gave her a shy smile. Next to her, Hygie nodded, approving the correct translation of her classmate.

'Oh, yes! Excuse me! I... I was lost in my thoughts! I'll focus!'

At the end of classes, some students got out with a black stem perfect to be carved as a flute, as their professor suggested, others with a disrupted voice.

'I'd rather use it to hit Mrs Norris next time I'll meet her', said Moira once the girls were in their common room, making the stem rebound in her open palm.  
'And Filch will take it from you to hit you in return!' giggled Suzanna.  
'I'd like to see him try! I'm sure I run faster than him!'  
'You? As short-legged as you are, you really think you can run faster than a caretaker who spent fifty years of his life running after students in the corridors?' retorted Maggie, haughty.  
'You're right... I'd better break his knees first!'  
'Moira!' Scarlett got indignant. 'How violent you are…!'

But while the girls were discussing, two young ladies made their entry into the common room and immediately, all students stopped their activities, their homework, their discussions...  
Ginny Weasley was back, accompanied by her friend, Hermione. Her housemates rushed towards her as soon as she set a foot in the common room. They all greeted her with a lot of joy and relief, like a heroine. The first year girls joined the crowd, jumping on their feet to try to see them. Despite her awakening, Ginny seemed terribly tired, dragged by the weight of her unconsciousness that lasted for days and days... Hermione pulled her out of the crowd's hold by opening a passage through.

'Sorry, excuse me...! Come on, please, clear the air! Don't you see she's exhausted? We'll throw a party later...!'

Yet, when she walked past Kate, she paused, and then adjusted a lock of her hair behind her ear, checking that Ginny was managing to follow her, swallowed by her housemates' overflowing enthusiasm, before slipping a discreet message in a breath:

'Small reunion, tonight, I need you to be here, as a witness... Meet me in the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom, after dinner...'

* * *

Kate had no hard time to get loose of her group of friends after she enjoyed the delicious roast chicken prepared by the house elves. She sneaked into the darkness of the falling night whilst she was going through the grounds between the Great Hall and the classrooms building, pulling her cape around her neck to protect her. Then, she climbed two by two the steps of the magic stairs, hoping not to meet Peeves. Yet, she reached the second floor without trouble, not without awakening the curiosity of numerous paintings who didn't understand why such a young girl was going in Defence against the Dark Arts so late in the evening.

Her heart was racing into her chest, threatening to break her ribs. A meeting. As a witness. In the middle of the professors? She finally had a role to play. A truth to tell.

When opening the door without knocking in a decisive gesture, Kate wasn't expecting to see her Defence against the Dark Arts teacher kissing the redhead girl who just got out of the infirmary. This moment interrupted by that unexpected entry, all three of them were staring at each other, very disturbed by the present situation; until Ginny and Harry stepped away from each other, as if nothing happened, while Kate wasn't moving, staggered.

'Ahem... please, Miss Whisper, take a seat with us', stammered Harry Potter, embarrassed as hell.  
'It's funny to see you talk to first years as a teacher, now!' whispered Ginny, amused, but still having shadows under her eyes.

Kate obeyed without saying a word and took place on a bench nearby. An awkward silence settled down in the classroom, punctuated by Harry's slight convulsive coughs; until Hermione, accompanied by Dennis Crivey, made their apparition in the room.

'Sorry we're late', hurried Hermione. 'It's not easy everyday to be prefect!'  
'There's no problem.'  
'Who are we still waiting for?' asked Dennis while sitting next to Kate.  
'Neville and Luna. They should be here soon by now...'

The door opened at that exact moment.

'Speaking of the devil...!'  
'Did we miss something?' asked Luna in a singing voice.  
'No, we were about to start.'

The blonde young woman, decked out in a doubtful pullover, with cyan and apple green stripes, scampered along through the room, swinging her arms at each step, before sitting next to her friend, Ginny, while Neville moved forward, a bit clumsier. In the middle of those persons who knew each other for years for having founded Dumbledore's Army and having organized the resistance during war, Kate's presence seemed awkward; and yet, quite necessary…

'That's good to see you, Ginny!' smiled Dennis, nodding.  
'I'm glad not to be in a bed anymore! With this persisting headache…'  
'Could you… tell us what happened that day?' asked Neville, joining his hands over the table and frowning his thick eyebrows above his little shining eyes.  
'It seems like it was yesterday…' grumbled Ginny while rubbing her forehead. 'All was going well! I assure you; I had the situation in hand…! But… my broomstick started to go off the rail.'

Everyone was quiet, hanging on her every word she was pronouncing seriously.

'I understood nothing. It… it was beyond control! I was completely distraught! Then, you know the rest. I fell and when I tried to catch hold of my broomstick, that damn Bludger hit me!'

Harry Potter grimaced:

'I have the impression to relive my first years here… An enchanted broomstick and a mad Bludger!'  
'So… I was right!' intervened Kate, shy but determined. 'The broomstick had been cursed! It wasn't the wind.'  
'No, it wasn't', confirmed Ginny, shaking her head.  
'It's not insignificant that someone attacked Ginny like that', thought Dennis while scratching the end of his chin. 'Do you think it would be a Death Eater? Or someone linked to them?'  
'What's certain is that it's not a joke', settled Hermione, serious. 'Someone tried to kill Ginny… And this someone can do it again… We have to stop him, now, before someone really gets killed.'

A dreadful silence fell on the assembly for a moment. The gloomy atmosphere rendered by Miss O'Joovens' decoration wasn't helping, with its long red candles, the animated skull on the shelf and the moving shadows, not quite reassuring. Until Neville spoke:

'Apparently, the responsible is not at his first try…'  
'What do you mean?' wondered Harry, circumspect.  
'The Halloween pumpkins… Miss Whisper told me about it last time and I admit her idea makes sense; the fact that the responsible for these two incidents could be the same person.'  
'Or an organized small group!' intervened Luna.  
'I investigated with my prefect mate after Halloween', told Dennis. 'Nor she nor I found anything suspect, at least, in our house…'  
'It's a Slytherin… Only they can plan something like that!'  
'Not all Slytherins are like that!' Kate defended them, valiant.  
'They were at the origin of many bad things, and nobody can deny it', Hermione reasoned her, more composed.  
'According to the questions I asked the students at the beginning of the year', said Harry, 'there's still a lot of Slytherin linked to Death Eaters. Family, friends, relatives… And we can't forget that. Voldemort might not be anymore, but his acts are still engraved; especially in his followers minds. Now he's gone… who knows… maybe someone would try to take power at his place, now that the Dark Lord's seat is vacant!'  
'I wouldn't go that far…' chuckled his friend. 'But it's possible a Slytherin has decided to hurt Ginny, especially during a match where the two houses were facing. That was an excellent context to act. Kate…'  
The young woman talked to the little girl, which, immediately, directed all the others' looks.  
'Last time, you told me you had serious doubts and that you thought you knew who the responsible was… Do you have any proof now?'

All the eyes on her, Kate swallowed before stammering:

'I already know it can't be a first year Slytherin. They were there the whole match and I was with them. I was in the top terraces; I could see all of them. And none had a suspicious behaviour. I wouldn't say they're all innocent! But… I didn't notice anything special!'  
'There's two ways of enchanting an object', reminded Dennis. 'Directly or previously. Maybe Ginny's broomstick has been cursed before the match.'  
'That's impossible', Ginny rejected. 'My broom was on my bed, it didn't leave my room! And I didn't let go of it one second before I got on it…'  
'That would imply a Gryffindor then. A girl, to be more precise. It seems rather unlikely to me.'

Kate's hair was standing on end: this version of the facts could perfectly accuse Maggie and fit the facts of why the young girl left with such hurry and anxiousness the breakfast table the morning of the match.

'Indeed, the enchantment from the terraces seems more likely', sighed Neville, crossing his arms.  
'Yet, the weather was so bad!' deplored Luna, half dreamy. 'The person should be very talented to perform a spell with such weather! And aim perfectly!'

Hermione stretched a grin then spoke to Kate again:

'Do you have something else to tell us in that case?'  
'No… not really.'  
'Alright, then. Thanks Kate, we're done bothering you tonight; you can go back to your dormitory…'

After a brief nod, Kate obeyed with a twinge to have to quit this war hero council. She shouldn't have been so deluded!

Once the door shut and the young girl gone, the conversation between the former students resumed:

'She has nothing suspicious…! You're happy?'  
'That's strange she was the only one to notice my broomstick was going off the rail', said Ginny, inclining her head.  
'And that she ran away one minute before the pumpkin attacks at Halloween', added Dennis.  
'I think Harry could confirm my words', intervened Neville, 'but Whisper is an adorable student… and who doesn't know to use magic! First, she had no reason to do this and then warn us, and secondly, she wouldn't be able to implement it.'  
'Maybe she's a nice student, and I believe you', said Luna in a singing voice while shaking her head, making her new earrings, in a shape of blue pears, swing. 'She's very cute! But don't forget what McGonagall said. She warned us… Kate doesn't always control what she does…'

* * *

With May, was also approaching the stress of exams; the O. for fifth years, the N.E. for the oldest. That didn't prevent the youngest to be also nervous about their last evaluations. Kate was the first concerned. Catching up months of failed spells… what would her professors tell her? Maybe she should better bet on subjects that didn't require a magic wand: Herbology, Potions, Astronomy, History of Magic, Care of Magical Creatures… Better start now! Kate detached from her distractions to study at the library under the gobsmacked looks of her elders who didn't understand a student so young could already start studying with so much seriousness. People were walking past her opening big wide eyes while she remained focused on her books, writing notes, repeating in a low voice the names of the plants and ferocious creatures, or enumerating the ingredients needed for the preparation of a potion. Nothing could detach her from her books.  
Except, perhaps, a little note. A piece of parchment fallen under her nose. Discreetly slipped towards her. When this happened, in the middle of her chapter about the goblins war, many times told by professor Binns, Kate jumped, like if the piece of parchment would eat her! Then, she raised wide opened eyes, observing the gracious silhouette going away, her bag against her thigh and her long black glowing hair cascading on her back. Why on earth Calypso Curtiss gave her this message? She hurried to open it:

 _"_ _Be careful, Whisper. Strange things are going on in my house and they concern you, I prefer to warn you. Don't trust anyone."_

What a strange message coming from a girl of the house of the snake with who she never had a proper discussion! How could she trust her? Her? That girl who never inspired her anything, if not suspiciousness. Haughty Calypso Curtiss. Cynical, proud and noble, a true picture of a Slytherin, informing about her own family in an abstract allusion. Kate creased the parchment in her hand and slipped it into her bag, her face surly. She really didn't like this atmosphere at Hogwarts. This impression that the world was turning around her while she was just turning on herself, without understanding the meaning. This was making her dizzy.

One evening, Kate went out of the library late, when she had been there since lunch. She observed the last students, bent over their writings, while Madam Pince was chasing the unwelcomed off her cave, like a dragon. Gathering her books, which she put in her bag, she cleared off in a sigh.  
Kate managed to avoid Peeves' attention, busy scattering the notes of a fifth year from the top of the big stairs, which flew around in a rain of parchment. The warm air outside made her sigh and she caught herself liking this new season's weather, synonym of revival. The dawn was painting the sky, full of thick cumulus, with a splendid cameo of pink, blue and bright, ephemerid yellow. It was so pleasant to breathe in such a calm environment. Far from the screams, far from the darkness. Far from the war relics…

'Kate!'

The scream at her intention made her thrill and she opened her eyes, staring at the silhouette of Suzanna who was running towards her, making her wide blonde and silky curls swing.

'Kate!'  
'Suzanna?! What's happening?'  
'Kate, you must… you must…'

She stopped in front of her friend, breathing strongly, while other students, who were going to their common rooms, were looking at them curiously when walking past them. Suzanna caught her breath, her hands on her knees, breathing noisily.

'You're scaring me, Suzanna…!' shook Kate, vainly attempting to smile. 'What's going on?'  
'It's the girls! They're in trouble!'  
'In trouble?!'  
'Follow me, I'll explain to you on the way!' she said while giving a glance to the students passing by.

She resumed her race, this time followed by Kate, her heart held by a terrible panic. Suzanna wasn't the type of girl worrying for nothing! She was used to lose her stuffs, her homework or to receive average grades. To reach such level of panic, the situation may be particularly serious.  
The two girls passed through the clock tower that was leading to Hagrid's hut and the forbidden forest, without slowing down.

'What are you doing?!'  
'That doesn't make any sense…' thought Kate. 'Scarlett is too much a stickler on the school rules… She would never go into the forbidden forest in her own will…! Tied up and victim of an enchantment, I would believe it, but…'  
'Screw logic, Kate!' yelled Suzanna with a high-pitched voice. 'I'm just saying what I know! The girls are missing! And I know they're in there! So, whatever your crappy reasoning is, stay here if you want! But I'm going to their research! They're gone for two hours now, after Maggie proposed them to go check something in the forest about I-don't-know-what…! The time for me to go take my camera… and they weren't here anymore! They still didn't come back, Kate, do you get that?! They might be in danger!'

Suzanna's eyes reddened and got watery and her lips trembled.

'And we don't give up on friends…'

On these words, the young girl started running again, galloping one pace on two on the way to the forbidden forest.

'Suzanna…! Come back!'

But Kate's call found no response. If she admitted for one moment that her words were true, it could fit with the suspicions Kate had about Maggie, but why going after her roommates? And if they weren't, Suzanna was throwing herself, alone, in the forbidden forest while night was falling; and that, Kate couldn't close her eyes on it and not intervene. Without really knowing what was guiding her, Kate followed her:

'Suzanna! Wait!'

Her heart retched when she crossed the limit of the forest's dark edge, already warning about the danger inside. Suzanna's silhouette was running straight forward, scanning the woods from right to left.

'Stop! It's completely insane!' Kate tried to reason her when she stopped on the dusty ground strewn with old pine needles eaten by insects. 'We'll never find them this way! We'd better go back to the castle. And if they don't come back to our dormitory, we warn the prefects and professors! It's a better solution than blind searching them into the woods!'  
'They're here…! I know they're here!'

Without noticing a single word of Kate, Suzanna resumed her searches. Exhausted by this run across the woods, getting darker and darker, her housemate started to have difficulty following her pace.

'Please, Suzanna, listen to me!'

Catching her breath, while leaning against a remarkably large tree, Kate walked around the trunk, in the direction where her friend ran. Yet, no red and black silhouette was seen.

'S-Suzanna?'

She had disappeared; and letting place to silence, Kate heard no sound of footsteps, no rustling or creaking pines or twigs. As if by magic, Suzanna seemed to have vanished into nature.

'Suzanna, it's not funny! Not at all! Come back! And… and we go back!'

Kate's whole body was shivering, panicked at the idea of being alone, lost in the middle of this wide forest, nest of the most terrifying dangers.

'Oh no… oh no, no, no…'

The step undecided and guided by her deep fear, she took the path that seemed to fit the most to her instinct's muffled voice.

'Suzanna! Suzanna!' she called out.

Nobody answered her, except her own desperate echo.

'Don't panic, don't panic', she tried to convince herself in a sobby breath while pulling her compass out of her pocket in a fast and clumsy move. 'We're gonna find the way. Everything's gonna be fine, Kate, everything's gonna be fine...'

Her little shaking fingers handled the knob, whose narrow oscillated, before settling on the hand. There weren't a lot of people in this forest! It would undoubtedly show Suzanna's direction! Or, at least, the school's... And so, Kate quickly retraced her steps, following the big golden arrow and seeing, in a relative relief, the numbers gradually reducing. Unfortunately, her consolation didn't last long, when the darkness swallowed the woods around and Kate found herself prisoner in the night's entrails. She wasn't able to see the arrows behind the glass of the little compass anymore, the light of the feeble crescent moon being hidden by the thick black clouds and the high twigs of the terrifying trees. There was no other way but resort to magic, while doubtful noises, characteristic to the night's world, started to awaken in the vegetation's shadows... Kate took her wand and brandished it in front of her.

' _Lumos!_ '

BANG! The orange explosion threw her backwards, making her fall on her back, the compass slipping through her fingers.

'Damn, damn, damn...!' she quavered, still chocked, groping around on all fours to find her belonging, lost between two big prominent roots.

Then, she rose up, dusting off her clothes on which dirt and pieces of bark were stuck. She was firmly holding her wand, as if it was the extension of her body. Determined to accept the fact that she would walk in the total darkness, wandering in that forest...

'Suzanna... if I get out of here... I'll strangle you!' she swore to herself, nearly falling on a root and hitting a tree.

Considering the compass useless now, she stuck it into her pocket and kept on going, blindly. Gradually, her sight became sharper, getting used to the nearly obscurity of the place. She didn't dare to try her lighting spell again, afraid to hurt her back, enough oppressed already!  
Kate felt like someone was observing her... And she wasn't reassured at all. Her heart was racing at her ears, like the heavy and fast drums of a tragic scene about to end. No matter how fast she was walking, she had the impression to walk towards her doom. Each shadow, hung on the small twigs of the big withered trees, seemed to be watching the scared walk of the little girl, before slipping along the trunks to follow her black shoes that were scampering on the dusty ground. The treetops were arching under the pernicious caress of the cold wind, like sharp claws, ready to close the trap on her.  
Kate's fingers closed around her mother's necklace, the only thing able to reassure her at this precise moment, while she was still roaming in the forbidden forest, without finding the exit. When a sound behind her made her jump and she stopped her pace. She made a U-turn and brandished her wand, oscillating because of her shakings. Further, one of the big bushes quivered; until a smoky silhouette, not human, not quite really animal, detached from it. A spectral mane was falling in tatters of darkness along its massive neck, while its body moved forward like if it was evaporating from the surface of the copse's frozen leaves. Then, exploded the dreadful bright reflection of its eyes. The cold drizzle around it, like a protective coat, infused in the little clearing, while in a threatening breath, the black silhouette was expanding and sliding on the dust.  
Kate's heart froze inside her chest, clutched by her emotions.

'A... gytrash...!'

Not a dog, not a horse, not a mule, this spectral creature the little girl met once in one of Hagrid's books was said to haunt the nocturnal woods, searching for lonely victims. The material embodiment of children's worst nightmares.  
Big teeth as black as the night and as shining as the moon showed themselves as the creature tucked up its chops, stretching on its hairy face an evil grin. Kate's emotions took control of her body: she gave a yell of terror while dashing herself in a wild race. Her instinct of survival, stronger than her caution, took over and allowed her to avoid the numerous trees hindering her run, weaving in and out between the tree trunks and jumping over the low copses. The shadow on four paws was following her in a shrill sound of wind, its two red eyes shining in the night without blinking.

'Help!' she yelled out of breath, hoping a miracle to intercept a snatch of her desperate call. 'Help!'

Hoping to get rid of the creature that fears light, she caught her wand and turned without stopping running:

' _Lumos!_ '

BANG! A small explosion was thrown from her wand. The monster evaporated a few seconds in a sinister squeal, before reforming after the flamboyant light faded, keeping on its hunting.

' _Lumos! Lumos!_ '

The failed spell was allowing her to get ahead, without managing to escape from it.  
However, she didn't anticipate the steep slope towards which she was running. She noticed it at the last second and stopped short in a hiccup of stupor, flailing her arms around; until her body, snatched by gravity, toppled over.  
Kate rolled in the dust for a long time, stuck in her cape and her manhandled hands trying to slow down her fall. When she stopped at the end, she spit for a long time between her sobs, extricating herself from her cape and gropingly searching for her wand that fell in the dust and leaves. On the top of the hillock, the gytrash was having its eyes on her in a triumphant look. And its big red eyes transfixed Kate who was feeling the beating of her heart in her lips. The creature rushed on her, hurtling down the slope at breakneck speed, its fangs unsheathed.

'Somebody... please... Dad... help!'

And as she thought her end near, curled up on the ground, her face into her arms, she felt a large mass jumping over her and intervene. The gytrash slowed down in an unhappy hiss, raising dust around. Surprised by this respite Kate lowered her hands and saw the tall, massive silhouette that was standing in front of her, facing the gytrash.  
The centaur scraped the ground several times with his hooves, bending his chest towards the gytrash that had been adopting a defence posture, retracted on its ghostly legs and its fangs shown. Newly animated with a hoping courage, Kate took refuge behind a large tree nearby, crawling on her back, her eyes fixed on a scene no human being could have been able to see in a lifetime...  
In a provocative and imperious posture, the centaur was charging by fits and starts in front of the gytrash, alone against that force of nature. The latter was forced to step back. Its bright red eyes seemed to never get away from its little prey who looked so mouth-watering, but it had to abandon her. The monster slipped into the ground, between the stones, in a black, smoky slick, to get back to the sylvan depths in an upset stridency. Silence fell back on the little clearing. Night suddenly seemed calmer.  
Kate's noisy breath was hitting her ears as she couldn't get her eyes off the tall grey centaur who turned towards her. His rounded face was circled with blonde hair and beard that the night was rendering sparkling brown. His accommodating look stopped on the little witch, fascinated and terrified at the same time.

'You have nothing to fear with me, little human...' he whispered in a voice showing his youth and his fear to be clumsy with Kate.

Slowly approaching her like if she was a wild animal, he stretched his muscled arm and held out a hand to help her get up. Hand that Kate observed a moment before taking it with febricity.

'Who... who are you? Why... why did you save me?'

Diligent in learning her lessons, the little girl knew some things about the centaurs, among other things, the loathing they were feeling for humans. The fact that one of them got away of his herd and came to the rescue of a child seemed to be a rather unlikely situation...

'The stars told me that I would find you here...'  
'The... stars?'  
'I have to bring you back to the edge of the forest before my people start wondering where I've been... Let's not loose time, we have to be fast.'

The young centaur seemed in such a hurry, but so respectful. He lowered his croup and, after a short hesitation, Kate climbed on his back, trying to keep her balance as much as possible. She was riding a centaur. She was having a hard time believing it.

'Who are you? And how is it that the stars told you I was here?' she asked, intrigued, bent over the grey centaur's back who started a quick gallop through the woods.  
'My name is Drane', he answered in outline. 'The stars, the planets, tell us everything if we listen carefully. They're spiritual guides along the path of our lives and others'.'  
'And so... they told you I was in danger?'  
'They whispered that, tonight, you would be in the forbidden forest O'Maëva. I didn't know you would be facing a gytrash...'

Kate had tensed up just before the centaur jumped over a fallen tree trunk, forcing her to bow her head again, clutched to him.

'H-How did you call me? O'Maëva?'  
'Is it not your name, little human?'  
'I-I'm Kate. Katelyna Whisper! My name's not Maëva!'  
'O'Maëva', corrected Drane in a chuckle. 'That's the name the stars gave you when you were born.'  
'The stars talk about me?'  
'Since you were born, little human. The stars look after you, after all of us. They know each being far more than he knows himself. I saw the celestial bodies shining with a whole new light the day you came into this world. Yes, O'Maëva, you're not like your kind. The stars can testify it themselves.'

Was it possible that this centaur knew more about her than anyone else in this world? She had to find out:

'What do you mean, I'm not like my kind?'  
'Humans are arrogant. Some of them do magic without knowing the real meaning of it, the foundation of the powers nature gave them. Everything about them is nothing but contempt, competition and relativity. They stay in the perpetual comparison of their strength, as if each being had to be dominant or submissive with regard to their congeners. That's what my people say... Maybe you'd support me?'  
'Yes, maybe', stammered Kate, taken aback. 'But I still don't get it... I'm a human being as many others...'  
'Do you really think so, O'Maëva?'

Each human being was unique in itself. But Kate couldn't deny the fact that she wasn't just a common witch... She opened a house in the wizarding school, for the first time since its creation. She found out to have an uncontrollable gift that had escaped all of her teachers' explanations, even the most qualified ones.

'You draw your magic from its very purity, its foundation; from the supreme essence, the source of magic and life... It is what you, humans, call immaterial...'

Immaterial. Kate had already heard that word from Wolffhart's mouth the day she had shown him she was able to summon an evanescent butterfly with her fingers.

'Why me? Why am I capable of doing that, while... I'm nobody! I didn't do anything special...!'  
'You'll have to find out by yourself, O'Maëva!'  
'I don't understand anything! Why don't you explain to me?! You know everything, since the stars told you!'  
'I... I'm not supposed to be here, with you, at that precise moment! I'm already breaking enough rules!'

She heard the young centaur sigh, shaking his blonde head while still galloping.

'The celestial bodies tell us about the past, the present and the future. Their voices are timeless. Us, the centaurs, we have a saying to let things happen by themselves. We're not allowed to interfere. We knew, years ago, that Harry Potter would be the saviour of our world. Some of my kind saved him several times, but we didn't fight all the time next to him, only when we were told to... My herd stays away from you; all of them know you, O'Maëva, and know what role you'll have to play in the future. But we are not willing to tell you more. Only you are master of your destiny and will have to discover what it is about...'  
'But, why did you save me while... you didn't know I was in danger?' Kate kept on, confused.  
'I'm following your path since my childhood. I saw your trace appearing and joining the stars, twelve years ago. I know what you will accomplish and who you truly are. I succumbed to the temptation by coming to you, because I knew you would be here, tonight. I shouldn't have...! We must not interfere, except when the stars tell us to!'

Drane's voice derailed and Kate felt that the young centaur was feeling guilty, afraid at the idea of the consequences of his acts. A slight smile stretched on her face as she was still clutching on him.

'Bane will be mad at me...'  
'Without you, I'd probably be dead...!'  
'Humans, you always put things into perspective!' mocked Drane, uncomfortable, unable to admit to himself that the little girl was right.

Straight after he finished his sentence, the castle's silhouette gradually appeared behind the trees.

'Hogwarts! We made it!' exclaimed Kate in a low voice, relieved.

The centaur let the little girl dismount, a constantly worried look aimed at the abyss of the forest.

'You're leaving already?' she wondered while Drane was going away.  
'I have to', he declared, his voice quavering. 'Every contact with you, with the humans, is outlawed.'  
'Will we see each other again, some day?'  
'I strongly doubt it, little human', he smiled clumsily while nodding his blonde head. 'I exceeded too many limits... Forget me and live your witch life, away from this forest, away from these evil creatures and from my herd. It's better this way... Farewell, O'Maëva. It was an honour to meet you...'

On these words, he galloped away, swallowed by the darkness while Kate shouted her last words to him:

'Thank you, Drane!'

She swallowed her words in one last whisper:

'Thanks...'

That's how she stayed still a while, in front of the woods full of occult whispers. Her heart was still strongly beating from the last emotions that took place in her. Panic, terror, despair, fascination. The interrogation was reverberating too much in her mind. She, who was doubting everyday more and more about who she were, now they were dispossessing her of her own name, her most intimate property!  
And while she was still meditating, without going back to the castle, a rustle sneaked up behind her, and a hard pointed object came in between two of her vertebras; the end of a magic wand...

'You weren't supposed to get out of that forest...!'


	10. The test of the Sphinx

And there it is! The last and final chapter of Mane Tribulationis; Kate's first year.

And on time! Yaayyyyy! o/

Hope you'll enjoy it.

I'd like to thank, for the billionth time, Emi for her nice comments and beautiful artworks! I can't wait to see this chapter's one!  
And thank you also to Edgar Ramsés for his nice comment!

And now, enjoy!

* * *

10\. The test of the Sphinx.

Kate tensed up, a shiver passing through her threatened spine, and swallowed, without being able to refrain herself from turning back. Her look first stopped on the Gryffindor blazon, sewn on the shirt. Then, on the reliefs of her interlocutor's face, floodlit by the moonlight, her eyes hidden by the darkness of her fringe. Kate, nevertheless, recognized her by the so characteristic intonation of her voice.

'M-Morgana?'

Brightness shimmered a brief moment into the young Slytherin's steely eyes, her wand still brandished.

' _Alligaveritis!_ '

A green flash of light threw Kate against the closest tree, taking her breath. Before she could understand the situation, ivies' creepers tied her up on the trunk, keeping her hands away from her pockets.

'Morgana! What are... What are you doing?! Release me!'  
'No way...'  
'You're... You're not yourself!'  
'I am!' claimed Morgana while approaching in a dantesque way, her wand close to her chest but still pointed on Kate. 'For the first time since the beginning, you see the real me!'

Kate was gasping for breath, the vegetal ropes strangling her, tensed on the quivering reliefs of her throat. Tears of incomprehension started to come up.

'You don't... You're wearing the Gryffindor uniform!'  
'Oh, that?' she sniggered in a sneaky smile, pulling a piece of her black cape for her to see better the red and gold badge. 'Simmons leaves her things lying around too much... She's so used to lose them!'

Suzanna's uniform...

'Why?' sobbed Kate. 'Why are you doing this? We're friends!'  
'We've never been friends!' spitted out Morgana. 'And I have no explanation to give you!'

The little girl's wand was oscillating in her hands: she seemed to be holding her emotions back; not fear, but joy. Scared and affected, but keeping courage, Kate tried to reach her own wand with her fingertips. But she couldn't move her arm, immobilized by the boughs chaining her whole body up. She only had one last resort...

'You only deserve one thing: to die! As fast as possible! And if the creatures of the forest didn't manage to do it, so... I'll do it myself!'

A terrifying and unstable smile stretched Morgana's blackened lips, while Kate was taking each of her assertions like a punch in her stomach. The last fragments of the liable little girl's reason flowed along her arms in an intense concentration, like a stream of cold water oozing on the surface of her skin, following her tensed muscles. A thin white light started to emanate around her scratched fingers, while Morgana was slowly articulating, measuring her spell:

' _Avada..._ '

The translucent light suddenly became stronger around Kate's hands, and the creepers snapped all of a sudden, as if they had been cut out around the little girl's silhouette.

'... _kedavra!_ '

The green light burst out on the trunk in a cloud of splinters and pieces of bark. Kate, who had avoided the fatal attack by a hair, rushed on Morgana. Hatred beyond reason took hold of her. Why?! Why no one was ever telling her anything? Why were they hiding so many things, especially when it was about her? Why would someone want her dead? Why?!  
She pushed back Morgana's arm, which was holding her wand, and tried to hit her in the head, while the Slytherin, taken aback by this turn of events, was searching to struggle and run away, but lost her balance. Kate fell with all of her weight on her, her gleaming palm with her spread fingers stretched towards her. And when her whitened skin touched Morgana's pale forehead, a painful shock seized her limb, like a powerful static discharge, and a darkened foggy image took place in her head...

* * *

McNair. You're a McNair. All the way to your bitten nails. Up to the end of your dark hair. In the slightest steely brightness in your grey eyes. You're a McNair.  
Oppressed. A future that always brings you back to your origins. Because it's all mapped out. It's all in your blood. A Pure-Blood. That, you must preserve. At all costs. Whatever you decide. Your origins are stronger than your choices.  
Stand up straight. Your wand mustn't move. Don't squint. Don't smile. Keep a stiff upper lip. You're not allowed to shout, even if your screams tear up your throat. Always say the words people want to hear. You're them before you're you, but you're a McNair above all.  
Strength is not what people show, what they expose to prove themselves. It is secret acts that push you into using trickery. As long as your heart is strong, nothing and no one will surpass you.

'Do you love me, my daughter?'  
'Aye, father, I love you. More than anything in the world.'  
'Whatever I do?'  
'You don't do it for yourself, father, you do it by duty...'  
'Yes... It's an obligation.'  
'Because we are McNairs?'  
'Because we are McNairs.'

React to nothing. Wear a mask, day and night, even your nightmares must not betray you. And if someone comes and breaks your protections or tramples your strength, avenge yourself.  
 _His face. It can't disappear. It mustn't be forgotten. We all are men of errors, but men above all. This wrong turn... was it worth his life? In that cellar?! Godfather, why?! Why do I want, more than killing, to avenge myself for that pain?! I want to take him out. I want his daughter. I want to deprive him of what he loves most. Make her disappear, so he could never grieve. He didn't have the power of life and death on you... Not now..._

'Hmmmm... The plans that haunt you, testify your great strength of mind. Desire of accomplishment more than glory of settlement... Your ambition is large-scaled. Pure nobility, tainted by the others' pasts. You suffered a lot of things; maybe that's why your thoughts are so dark. Brilliant intellect is tired of waiting for her hour when the path is all mapped out, isn't she? SLYTHERIN!'

Kate Whisper. Kate Whisper. I want to kill her. I want her dead. I have to use cunnings. I have to break her heart and send her ashes to her traitor father...  
Life is nothing else but dust anymore; that you tread upon to find your mark. Her name haunts you. Kate Whisper. It haunts you so much, you loose your mask at night and you smile while thinking of her corpse at your feet and her father's tears. Sweet revenge. Litany of the happy days. Sleep, sleep little Whisper. The quiet snake is crawling beside you. The shadow is prowling under your bed. Right where you expect it least...  
Friends only are people with who you share a common interest. Values. Morals. Principles. Not just empty words, laughs or tears. Everything is only superficiality in their stupid friendships. Blood relationships are the purest of all.

'I have to be hurt by the pumpkins. I have to stay in the Great Hall. You take care of that, I'll take care of Whisper... She must not be here... I have a potion; I will put it in her drink. They have to think she's a possible suspect. The least bonds she'll have, the most vulnerable she'll be. I have to get closer...'

And only shed your blood in the service of your name, nothing else.  
Carve your eyes out rather than cry. Cut your vocal chords rather than scream. Suffer rather than live... As long as you didn't prove who you truly are. You're a McNair.

'Do you have what I asked you, Rosier?'  
'Juffbigles might be stupid; he has everything with him... There... Here it is.'  
'That's... Polyjuice?'  
'Yes Prince... We have to use it with great precautions. We only have two phials...'  
'What's your plan, McNair?'  
'Find Dawkins... Pull a hair out of Goldilocks' head...'

Handle the mask as well as the wand. It must be as sharp as a blade. Perfect it. You're them before you're you...  
 _How will I do? Burn her? Drown her, maybe... Make her eat mud until she chokes on it... Throw her corpse in the lake..._

'I've been looking for you for half an hour! I nearly damaged my gorgeous shoes! What are you doing here?'  
'Well… I'm waiting for my detention with Wolffhart.'  
'Ah? Ok…'  
'Why? What is it?'  
'I thought we could have go together to explode some toads tonight!'  
'Hem, no, that won't be possible. I doubt Wolffhart would let me go out early and I might be more punished if I miss detention!'  
'That's a shame…'  
'I thought you were mad at me?'  
'I still am. I thought the toads could have been a good reconciliation.'  
'… You're too temperamental, Maggie. That's… strange…'

The rage that boils in your veins. It pounds at the surface of your panting skin. Don't let emotions overflow you. Stay as lucid as your blood is pure... Failure only is temporary. Vengeance is a dish best served cold. And highly seasoned.  
It's all about stages. Fall back on the rabbit before hunting the bear. It's all about order and food chain where you decide who will be eaten first...

'Ginny Weasley. We have to knock her down of her little heroine's cloud... We have to knock her down plainly...'  
'You know how to enchant a broomstick?'  
'I can control anything. And your mind too, Rosier, if you're not working with me...'  
'McNair. Over there... Dawkins... I-I think she heard us...!'  
'No! No! Don't run after her! Not immediately... She's a coward... She won't tell anything. On the contrary... Let's use her... Let's break the bond between her and that Whisper bastard once and for all...'

Your little naked body is white. As white as the spotless snow. And your eyes, two mercury pearls on the powder snow. Even the mirror can't take your mask down. You got caught up in the game so much that you don't recognize yourself anymore. And while you're observing yourself like that, you only have the appearance of a shapeless little girl. A dark haired cherub. With a heart polluted by your hatred for others. Those others who perforated it.

SBAF! Makes you hand when it hits your chest in a burst of fingers, before you laugh. Little dark heart has passed away. Dad will be happy. Especially when you'll have ripped Whisper's one out to replace yours missing.

'It's too easy... Simmons leaves her things lying around too much...'  
'And let me see that... What a surprise, she left some hair...'  
'The Polyjuice? The second phial? What do you want to do with Simmons' appearance?'  
'Carry out what I dreamed of... finally. Get rid of Whisper. Put her out to pasture to the creatures of the forest. And so, they will make a necklace out of her intestines.'

Run. Run behind me Whisper. This scene is so comical. The lamb trying to catch up the wolf on his hunting ground. Come Whisper... We're going to have fun. Run behind me. Your father will find your pieces on your last steps...  
I will only die with you dead, Whisper. I don't live otherwise.

* * *

When Kate blinked, she found herself on the ground, crushing Morgana with all of her weight. The latter was staring at her, horrified, while the little girl above was trying to catch her breath, gobsmacked. Only one second had passed since she had touched the Slytherin's forehead.

'What did you... You... You entered into my head...!'  
'That was you... You did this! With Amy Rosier! And Lawrence Prince!'

In a scream, Morgana hurled Kate's body with her arms and legs, sending her to roll on her side. Kneeling on the grass and her hand on her hip, Kate was coughing, struggling to collect her thoughts, as if she had passed through an entire other life in addition to hers.

'Yes! Yes it's I who did this!' spitted out Morgana while getting up, half crazy. 'You deserved it! You deserved everything you've been through! You should have rot in that cellar! With your scum father! And your bitch mother!'  
'Your godfather... It was him... who died in Graveson.'  
'Don't talk about him!'

The kick she sent her broke her nose. Falling again violently to the ground, on her back, Kate choked as blood was streaming down her stabbing throat.

'He doesn't deserve a filthy girl like you, a traitor to his blood's daughter, to talk about him!'

Then, Morgana took back her wand and pointed it again on Kate, who was writhing in pain on the ground.

'You should know, better than anybody else, the bound between a daughter and her father, when he's a former Slytherin. We never betray him... And we love him forever... Even if he killed people!'  
'The difference between my father and yours is that mine never killed innocent people...' Kate provoked her, wily.  
'My father was defending the Dark Lord's cause... for the good of my family! He's not a coward. Or a traitor... like yours.'

In a laugh that Morgana didn't expect, Kate lied down on the ground, her arms wide open, her face stained with blood. Inside her, the young girl was so destroyed by this treason; she was neglecting her own survival.

'You think you were the only one who suffered the consequences of this war and its deaths? You're pathetic, Morgana McNair... I lost my uncle and my aunt. My cousin is nearing death. I saw my father suffering under my eyes and my mother depriving herself from the daylight to save me from your blind hatred. You, Death Eaters... And yet, I never blamed you... Never. That is real courage. Cowardice is attacking someone weaker than you. A twelve year old girl who can't even handle magic... Oh, how big your shame is...!'  
'I almost killed Ginny Weasley, the great war heroine, the Chosen One's girlfriend! Defeated by a twelve year old, as you said... I would have liked to set Hagrid's hut on fire. His clothes are so thick and so dirty; they must burn up very well... But... they would have found out it was me if I did attacked him. After all... it's because of this oaf if my father earned some years in Azkaban...'  
'And you're avoiding my words...! Yes, Morgana... Until the end... you're just a coward...'  
'Shut up! Shut up! Forever!'  
' _Petrificus Totalus!_ '

A shiver took hold of Morgana who, frozen, her eyes wide opened, crashed to the ground without managing to stop herself. A dark silhouette bent over the little girl who was still spitting blood.

'Kate, are you okay?!'  
'Maggie?! What are you doing here?' coughed Kate while her friend was already helping her getting up.  
'Well... I was enjoying my exploding toads alone when I heard screams...! Come, let's not stay here...!'

Maggie supported her schoolmate, still suffering pain because of the kicks and successive falls, while walking towards the castle, leaving Morgana's inert body at the edge of the forbidden forest...

'I'm sorry, Maggie...'  
'Did she brainwash you to say this?'  
'I know now... It wasn't you...! They manipulated you... They used you...!'

Kate told what she saw into Morgana's mind, without leaving out one small detail. That she poured a potion into her pumpkin juice, the night of Halloween, that gave her an urge to go to the bathroom, in order to make her rush out of the Great Hall and make her a suspect. But Maggie accompanying her never was part of the plan... Since the beginning, she only was just a parasite to Morgana's eyes. An obstacle to the fake friendship she was having with Kate. But a vermin that turned out to be a precious tool... When she took her form to approach the young girl the night of her detention with Wolffhart. Morgana, under Maggie's features, and who the compass pointed out to be a danger for Kate, had tried to bait her with her offer of toads' hunting after she saw the girls devoting themselves to this activity on a night when she was following her prey. An opportunity to get rid of her... But countered by Wolffhart's detention about which she wasn't aware! To fall back on Ginny Weasley was a fanciful choice; to cool her jets for a while. When she was discussing with her two accomplices, the three girls had been spotted by Maggie. And they had grabbed her after breakfast, had put her under the Imperius curse to make her enchant Ginny's broomstick, before locking her up in a closet and inflicting her a slight Obliteration charm when they came back from the stadium. Maggie only was a victim of their conspiracy. She never deserved to be judged as Kate did...

'Why didn't you tell me?'  
'Well, if you say they casted me Obliteration charm, how could I have remembered?'  
'No, I mean... Rosier and Prince... They found a way to take some of your hair. You fought...'  
'I wasn't going to tell you! That was my only problem... Those bastards... If they hadn't been two against me, they would have got scolded! Besides, wait... How is it that you read her thoughts?! It's beyond me! That McNair is nothing but a traitor, it only half-surprises me! But the fact that you, poof! You pick up into people's memories, it doesn't affects you more than that?!'  
'I... I don't know how I did that...' stammered Kate while they were passing through the big door of the Entrance Hall, still opened, under the gargoyles' empty looks. 'I wanted to hit her. And when I touched her forehead, it's been like I was in her head...'

Kate had entered Morgana's memory, there was no doubt, picking up unconsciously amongst everything she could reach for her interest.

'H-How?' stammered Maggie, impressed.  
'I... I think memories... are immaterial.'  
'Excuse me my rudeness, but you're not teaching me anything!'  
'If they're right... and I can control immaterial. Then maybe... I controlled Morgana's memories...'  
'Who told you that?'  
'I'll explain to you when we're back in our dormitory...'

* * *

The violent altercation between Kate and Morgana was never reported, as if it never existed. And life went on at Hogwarts. The little houseless girl was now completely devoid of ties with the Slytherin house, except when addressing some words when she was walking past Nightingal or Curtiss, to thank her for her warning. Morgana came back in the castle at dawn, frozen, when Maggie's spell had faded. Even though McNair had tried to kill her, Kate didn't report anything to her professors, considering that Morgana had paid enough. Furthermore, the powers inside her that had asserted themselves had gave her a self-confidence that was persuading her she had the advantage on her, henceforth, rival's dark magic. Even though she didn't want to show it, despite her hatred, Morgana feared Kate's unknown magic...  
The week of practical exams arrived, to the great displeasure of the first years. This first day of the week, all houses were gathered in the Transfiguration classroom where Wolffhart was observing his terrified students from his desk. A grin, quivering at the corner of his dull lips, was barely seen.

'Vertig? Gut.'

When he got up, all students tensed up on their benches and Kate didn't make an exception. And with a nimble move of his wand, a focused look on his face, Wolffhart summoned on the stage, a piece of furniture of about forty inches supporting a classic art stoneware statue depicting a sphinx the size of a cat. Probably a souvenir from a mummy hunt, as Kate had observed on the pictures exposed in her professor's office...!

'Today's test is very simple', vociferated Wolffhart, his tone excessively powerful and jerky, his hands behind his back. 'You will have to turn that object into a vase of flowers. I will rate on efficiency and aesthetic.'

Panicked whispers travelled through the room, but the teacher ended it instantly.

'You don't know the spell, ich weisse! That's what a practical exercise is for! To learn to handle magic at any moment, without training! Because your enemies, wild beasts, will never give you time to exercise before making you shapeless shreds!'

He turned in a controlled spin towards the blackboard and scribbled in convulsive and exaggerated moves the spell.

'Gut!' he finished while throwing his chalk before returning to his desk and taking place, grabbing his parchment. 'I will proceed in alphabetical order.'

Kate sighed while others were getting into a spin. She had a few minutes to psychologically prepare herself to this task...

Emeric Beckett, first to pass, succeeded brilliantly the test, turning the sphinx into a crystal vase full of wild flowers. The boy had settled a high level. Even Wolffhart supported him with a nod; performance that his mates had a hard time to reproduce. Passing one after the other, Maggie produced an old clay pot with half-faded flowers, while Terry managed to form a wooden cylinder with stunted daffodils. The vase of Meredith Hatcher, a Hufflepuff, was so fragile it broke under its own weight, drowning the steps between the stage and the students' desks. It was not until Hygie Smethwyck's call that a new performance happened again. An armful of red roses burst into a gorgeous Chinese porcelain vase under the students' stunned looks and the most moderate one of their professor, hardly impressed.

'Katelyna Whisper', he called in a powerful voice once all students had passed.

Immediately, everyone sharing about their feelings and grades forecasts became silent. Under everybody's look, Kate got up and moved towards the stage, her wand tightly held by her tensed-with-stress fingers.

'I bet you she will succeed', smiled Maggie, bending towards Terry.

The latter frowned, surprised by her words.

'You think? I really like Kate but... let's be serious! She never did a spell right...!'  
'So take the deal if you're so sure! If Kate turns out the sphinx, you will have to bring me some of Mrs Norris hair taken on her by yourself!'  
'Turning the sphinx into ashes doesn't count!'  
'We agree.'  
'Good. If she explodes it, you will have to declare your love to Moira. In the Great Hall, of course.'  
'Deal!'

All their hopes were suddenly leaning on poor Kate's shoulders, motionless, her eyes fixed on that damn sphinx. She was distinguishing, behind the sculpture, Wolffhart's eyes looking at her over his joined hands on his mouth, his two forefingers on each side of his curved nose. But it was reassuring her more than disturbing her... Wolffhart knew about her uncommon abilities; that she could handle immaterial. She was feeling confident... She didn't want to disappoint him.  
Her face relaxed and, while she was focusing on her slowing heartbeats, she felt a warm stream coming down along her arm until running down to her wand's handle. Yes. She was perceiving immaterial... Like she did at the edge of the forbidden forest. Then, she raised her wand and in an assured voice, pronounced the spell:

' _Continens flores!_ '

Immediately, the sphinx shivered before turning into a big chiselled silver container, inlayed with cut amethysts, and a bouquet of lilies burst open, surmounted by a branch of mauve lilac. There was a second of silence. Then a thunderous applause. The students all got up suddenly to congratulate their classmate who brilliantly succeeded her first spell of the year. Moira was exceeding everybody, standing up on her table and claiming her happiness, while Terry was clapping his hands with a wide smile, despite his defeat. Even Wolffhart applauded slowly and granted her the luxury of the first true smile appearing on his chalky face since the beginning of the year. The little girl felt tears at the edge of her eyes, fulfilled with bliss. She finally was a true witch...

* * *

Many were the students dragging their feet on Hogsmeade's platform where the Hogwarts Express was waiting, its red painting shimmering under the warm sun of June. The thick volutes coming from the locomotive's chimney were rising up in small clouds into the cerulean sky. The year was already over. A too short year. That was the first one under the aegis of peace in the wizarding world.

In his mistress' arms, Sir Sulkington was observing with a grumpy look the firebrand humans who were passing by under his eyes: leaving the school seemed to not mean anything to him; as long as he had the peace he had been yearning for so much.

'I can't realize that's it... year is over.'  
'We're coming back next year, Kate, don't worry!' Suzanna reassured her with a smile.  
'Except if you die', added Moira while shrugging her shoulders.  
'It's hilarious how simple minded you still are after nine months...!'  
'And to see you still don't have any sense of humour, Maggie!'

Suzanna had a revelation and suddenly stopped on the quay, making her friends do the same.

'Hey! Why don't we take a picture? To celebrate the end of the year! I have one left on the film! The very last one!'  
'Good idea!'

And while Suzanna was taking her camera out, Terry approached Kate, greeted by the unhappy meows of the white fluffy cat.

'Have nice holidays, Kate!'  
'What? You already are saying goodbye?' she faked indignation in a big smile bringing out the uncertain row of her teenager teeth. 'You don't want to come in our compartment?'  
'Five girls and a cat?' he thought, his blonde eyebrows frowned, his gaze up to the sky and his big chin up. 'Hmm. I doubt I could come in! There won't be enough room for all of us! I'm not a featherweight, you know! No, don't worry. I will be in the wagon with Branstone and Clifford... But maybe we'll see each other at King's Cross!'  
'At least come with us on the photo!'

Kate didn't give him choice, pulling on his arm to approach her group of friends who were posing.

'Hagrid, could you take the picture, please?' crooned Suzanna with a big bright smile while handing the camera to the half-giant, perched on her tiptoe.  
'Oh, but... o' course!' he answered, surprised but proud and happy to be requested by his students, before catching the little body that could easily be held between his forefinger and his thumb.

Then, Suzanna ran towards her young Gryffindor friends, grabbing Scarlett's shoulders by the left, while Maggie was teasing Moira, placed on the front, and Kate was forcing Terry to not run away, Sir Sulkington's venomous eyes fixed on this intruder.

'Are yeh ready?' he asked in a thunderous voice while raising the camera in front of his eyes. 'Say Quidditch!'  
'Quiddiiiiiiiiitch!'

The purple flash immortalized the scene. The animated picture was going to take a place of choice in the album. Because, who knew what they were going to live, together...

* * *

If there was a place where night was more terrifying than anywhere else on earth, it was St Mungo's, on the fourth floor. Everything was frozen in a pale inertia. Silence was heavy, sometimes punctuated by terrifying bloodcurdling screams.  
A shadow was moving through the spotless corridors, under the subdued lights that started to flicker. The Cliodna room's door half-opened in a gloomy creaking. The oscillating light of the corridor stretched out on Eliot's statued face, as white as the walls surrounding him. A hooded silhouette placed herself on the bed and bent over him, like a wildcat sniffing its prey before eating it. Lips, gleaming with a dark purple colour, emerged from the darkness of the black velvet hood, brushing against the young sleeper's cold skin.

'Eliot Burbage...'

Then, she raised her arm, a gaunt, perfect hand came out of her sleeve and pushed aside a lock of hair falling on the boy's forehead.

'You're going to wake up...'

A smile broke the stranger's face before she lowered slowly her head towards the pillow in order to whisper at his ear, detaching each syllable with sensual delight:

'And you will bring me Kate Whisper...'

A blow of wind. She vanished as fast as she had appeared. As if she never existed. Silence fell again. The gloomy light ceased to flicker.  
And Eliot's face remained still, sunk into his eternal sleep. Until, suddenly, his eyes opened.

* * *

Well, well, well, it's seems like it's about to get rougher for little Kate, don't you think? And this is only the beginnig!

Don't worry, you're not going to stay without answers very long (well, for _some_ questions, not all of them...). See you next week for a whole new year!


	11. The letter with a green seal

Hello there!

Here begins the second volume of Kate's adventures! Let's start with some good news!

Hope you'll enjoy!

* * *

1\. The letter with a green seal.

 _'_ _And you will bring me Kate Whisper...'_

Kate nearly choked on the deep breath of air she just took, her head sinking into the pillow and her eyelids opening widely on her grey eyes. A rather brutal awakening, unpleasant, just as the dream she just had. She gathered her thoughts, a few seconds, breathing feverishly, her eyes still heavy with sleep. Then, after a glance at the window, she rolled in her bed and gropingly grabbed the alarm clock on her bedside table. The lacklustre numbers on her old machine were indicating 8:24 am. Kate grumbled before putting the object back and gesticulated under her sheet, refusing to extricate herself from bed. However, she knew very well that she couldn't manage to sleep anymore...  
Resigning in a sigh, she got up in clumsy steps on the creaking parquet and strolled about in her room towards the window before pulling the curtains. The bright light of summer dawn lightened up the small room that the night had rendered dusty, with small particles flying in the air. Kate turned her face from it, in a grimace of discomfort, a few seconds before noticing a bird on her tiny, rusty iron balcony. It wasn't a tit willing to sing its early ode, nor a robin begging for a piece of bread, but a Great Horned Owl standing solemnly, its feathered horns straight on its squared head. A smile broke Kate's face, her eyes still heavy:

'Goliath?'

Kate rose up the window frame and invited the owl to come inside; which he did after being begged several times, perching on a shelf. At his claws was hanging a small pretty letter. The quality of the parchment, marbled with golden glints, was such that Kate was now having no doubts about the sender. She detached the message and unfolded it. With each succeeding words, she felt her heart soothing with happiness. Then, she rushed into the corridor and climbed down the stairs like a whirlwind.  
In the kitchen, lulled by the crackling of a radio, Grace was stirring with a wooden spatula, the eggs cooking in the frying pan, while Phil, sat at the table, was attentively reading the Daily Prophet he had just received. Her parents mustn't be awake since very long; she saw that by her father's coffee. Because, in front of him was his old magic mug on which a fire-breathing griffon was galloping. When the cup was empty or its content was becoming colder, the pattern of the legendary beast fell asleep in a peaceful slumber.  
Kate entered the kitchen like a whirlwind, as nervous as a cat:

'You'll never guess what I just received!'

Her father gave her a mischievous look above his paper.

'Morning kiddo, did you sleep well on that 12th of August night? Did you have nice dreams? I did, thank you. It's always so nice of you to ask me how I'm going this morning, sweet pea; I appreciate your warm social standards. Do you want your English Breakfast? Your mother just put the water to boil.'

To remedy his sarcastic remark, Kate rushed towards him to offer him a kiss before doing the same to her mother.

'Sorry! But I'm so happy!'  
'Well! You're very lucky to be so exuberant just after jumping out of bed', said Phil, surprised, while neglecting the Prophet. 'A lot of people would wish that... I first...'  
'You received good news?' asked her mother, interested, as she served her fried eggs. 'Your letter from Hogwarts?'  
'No, you're not even close! Maggie is inviting me to see the Quidditch world cup with her! That's awesome, isn't it?'

But as she was expecting a cheerful reaction from her parents, or at least a positive one, she found herself facing her mother's awkward smile, who didn't know much about Quidditch, and the flinching of her father's eyebrows.

'If I remember correctly... this year's world cup is taking place in Singapore...' breathed Phil, holding his griffon mug with his two hands.  
'Y-yes', stammered Kate between fear and joy.

Phil adopted an awkward expression, a grimacing smile oddly not very reassuring.

'There's no way you're going to go there' he sniggered as he shook his head.  
'What?!' choked Kate. 'B-but, dad! This is the Quidditch world cup! I can't miss it!'  
'Ok, let me think a few seconds. Hmmm. No.'  
'Your dad's right', intervened Grace coming towards the table while tightening the belt of her light blue dressing gown. 'You're still young. Singapore is on the other side of the world...! It's not the wisest idea.'  
'Nothing's too far for wizards!' she replied. 'I'm sure there are fast ways to go there!'

She attacked with a contained rage the poor eggs on her plate, piercing the flabby membrane of the yolk which spread.

'You seem to forgot, dear daughter, that your age isn't ideal to go alone to that kind of festivities...'  
'But I won't be! There will be Maggie and certainly her parents!'  
'Is that supposed to reassure me?'  
'Just come with me dad! I'm sure you will like it! You'll see; it will be awesome! Completely unforgettable!'  
'Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you found a bag full of Galleons between yesterday and today!'  
'Dad, listen to me, quit fooling around...'  
'Oh. Well, okay.'

Phil's face froze in an expression so cold, his gaze intent by the sharp grey of his eyes, that Kate regretted her words.

'I'm listening to your arguments, cheeky monkey.'  
'Maggie's parents are very... err... They can afford it! They can pay the trip for us! And the lodging house on the spot!'  
'I don't want to depend on anybody for expenses', hurled Phil, serious as he pursed his lips. 'It's out of the question to let them pay us anything...'  
'But Maggie told me they'd be okay with this...'  
'It's I who isn't okay with this...! If we go, it would be with our money. Yet, as you noticed... we've not reached the point of renting a dragon for our vault in Gringotts... We even haven't enough to afford a legless house elf...!'  
'You will have the occasion to go to another Quidditch world cup, sweetie', her mother reasoned her as she rubbed her shoulder. 'And not as far as Singapore...'  
'B-but... it's Maggie who invited me!' claimed Kate, relentless and disappointed. 'I can't refuse!'  
'If you want, I can answer her myself, she would understand it better', grumbled Phil as he swallowed a mouthful of coffee. 'In the meantime, it's not even possible for you to go... especially as the wizarding world remains dangerous and unpredictable for the moment...'

Seized by a rush of anger that flushed her face, Kate got up and, without even finishing her breakfast, left the table on those shouted words:

'In case you don't know dad, war is over! I have the right to live my life!'  
'Oh, of course...'

The little girl got back to her room, drying some tears on her way. Puzzled, Phil sighed.

'She'll understand', said his wife as she shrugged her shoulders and sighed too. 'She's still too young to realize the reality of this world, even more the wizarding one.'  
'Oh, I don't worry, she'll get over it.'

At this exact moment, like a brown arrow, Littleclaws, who had passed through the half-opened window in a peak of speed, wheeled around into the kitchen before landing on the table, her claws slipping on the wooden surface as she was trying to approach her master.

'It really is hygienic to see a bird that feed on mice's rotten carcasses, walking on the breakfast table', Grace teased her husband.  
'Because you think there's a better way?'  
'For the poor Muggles we are, it's called postal services. That saves us inconvenient squeals and feathers!'  
'Don't listen to her', chuckled Phil to Littleclaws as he took the letter carrying the seal of the Ministry that the owl was bringing him. 'She only utters vilenesses...'  
'Again and again!' said Grace with a laugh as she cleared the table.

Phil reviewed the letter addressed by the Ministry, more exactly by the Pest Sub-Division from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures: it was some information gathered by the wizards in order to direct him in the cases he would have to resolve on this day in the district he was responsible for as a Tracker. Incidents implying, most of the time, Muggles... Emergencies remained rare but it happened to Phil to be woken up in the middle of the night by a letter brought by Littleclaws, about a Banshee attack on an entire town full of Muggles. In those cases he had to react immediately, at the risk of finding themselves, the day after, with a scrolling banner in the Muggles' news about numerous worrying disappearances!

'Well, a Nogtail, it's been a while...!'  
'That's all you have for today?'  
'Oh, no, some other small utilities; imps invasion, a Niffler who attacked a jeweller's... The routine, my brave wife!'

Once he was ready, Grace joined him in the entrance hall and accompanied her goodbye kiss with a few words:

'Stop worrying, she's not mad at you... She'll understand your choice for her. Tonight it will be all ancient history and she'll jump at you when you come home...!'  
'Who are you talking about?'  
'Your daughter, big lug! I know you too well since all that time...'  
'Oh, my apologies. For a moment I thought you were talking about my lover!'

Phil took the punch that his wife, amused as well as offended, gave him in the ribs with a smirk.

'Go, before I put my father's Muggle shotgun on your temple, vile wizard!'  
'Yes, good day to you too, darling!'

* * *

Kate spent her morning brooding over in her bedroom in every way she could. She wrote many letters for Maggie but none of them was good enough for her, fearing that her friend would take bad her father's refusal, which she thought was legitimate. After all, the opportunity would come up again someday; she had an entire life to assist to a Quidditch world cup finale. She made this promise to herself.  
The shy knock of her mother on the door extracted her from her thoughts.

'Want a game of draughts and some tea?' she proposed with a smile.  
'Oh yes, why not...'

After all, she could leave this case aside for a moment. Perhaps her father would change his mind when he'd be back. Even though the chances were thin, Kate was still hoping.  
She went down, her feet rebounding on the steps of the stairs, and joined Grace who was arranging the game board on the living room's coffee table. When she saw her mother placing the draughts, Kate remembered not so far memories. When war was raging and the cold days in the cellar were going by playing endless board games. And draughts had always been her mother's favourite. Kate however regretted not to be able to experiment the wizard version, where draughts swallows each other, releasing sometimes a satisfied burp.

'I take the red ones', she decided.  
'Ok, then. I begin.'

Despite everything they lived together, Grace and her daughter never were confidantes. Kate always thought that her Muggle ignorance was making her closer to her father than her mother, who couldn't manage to understand her fully. Only games, like draughts, were able to loosen tongues.

'I hope my letter from Hogwarts will come quickly...' sighed Kate as she made her draught rebound on the board.  
'You're looking forward to do shopping, I presume...!'  
'And to go back there...!'  
'That's good to see. When I think that, at your age, I hated the comeback. And I still do!'

Since the end of battles in the wizarding world, Grace had found a stable job and was teaching to young students around her daughter's age in a public school.

'Of course, learning magic is far more thrilling than working on maths!'  
'Completely!'

Kate had a fit of rage, very soon dispelled, when Grace swiped all of her pieces in the destructive passage of her draught.

'Tell me, mom...'  
'Yes?'  
'How did you react, exactly, when you learnt magic was real? That wizards existed?'  
'I had to believe it!' she chuckled. 'Your dad saved me from a Bowtruckle. At first, I was very suspicious. But, you know, when there's a young, handsome man like your father was; you're ready to believe anything...! I went so far as to provoke the creature that attacked me once again, just to see him again!'  
'The magic of love-at-first-sight!' smiled Kate, dreamy.  
'When you're a young Muggle girl and your life is dull, without magic, you dream of being a princess and finding a prince mounted on his white proud steed. Or a James Bond style handsome secret spy. I could believe anything, but certainly not to meet a wizard!'

While Kate was rearranging the draughts after this first game, which she lost, Grace fetched the teapot.

'I was far from the plans I had when I was younger', she resumed after she had served her daughter some tea. 'I admit it wasn't a peaceful life your father gave me! That's for sure. But I regret nothing. Except the fact that I wasn't a witch either...'  
'You would have wanted to go to Hogwarts, mom?'  
'Oh yes... Make the most of your luck...'

Even though Grace's smile was bright, Kate noticed the regret in her voice. She took advantage of her hesitation on her next move to slip a proposition:

'Why don't you come with me and dad to Diagon Alley for my purchases?'  
'That's a moment you have to share with him. To wizards, their wizard moments.'

Kate was about to retort in order to convince her mother to accompany them, when a shadow crossed the ray of light coming from the large window of the living room in a sound of beating wings.

'An owl!' she exclaimed.  
'At this time?' wondered Grace as she turned around on the sofa.

Kate jumped on her feet and ran to the window, which she lifted abruptly. The bird rushed into the room and made several tours, spreading its feathers in the air, before landing on the back of the seat Kate had been sitting on a few moments ago. It was a streaked owl, its rounded head framed with brown and its thorax speckled with black and white. To its leg was tied up a brown letter.

'That must be for your father...'  
'No, mom...'

The green wax seal was engraved with a bone and a wand; a symbol Kate recognized immediately.

'It's from St Mugo's!'  
'The hospital?'

Immediately, Grace worried and rushed towards her daughter who had just untied the envelope from the claws of the bird of prey, who screeched with satisfaction. Kate was shaking when she gave the letter to her mother. Was it the simple, usual letter informing about Eliot's state? Or was it to announce... that he was dead because of his too long sleep?  
Apprehension pinning her heart, Grace removed the seal and unfolded the letter with haste, her daughter's anxious gaze fixed on her expressions. However, a smile broke her face.

'What is it, mom?'  
'Eliot... he woke up!'

* * *

While Kate was collecting her thoughts, transfixed on the sofa, an immutable smile on her face, Grace was desperately trying to contact her husband.

'Why wizards can't have cell phones on them, like everyone?!' she raged. 'He must certainly have forgotten his somewhere, at the back of his damned car...'  
'You're asking too much from a wizard, mom! I have an idea!'

Moved by her happiness, Kate went to her father's office, upstairs, at top speed, drumming against the steps. The room wasn't well-lit, bathed in dust, cold and bitter smell of paper, smoke and aged wood. In the corner was drowsing Littleclaws, who took refuge under her wings when Kate entered abruptly into the office.  
She, then, started to search for a piece of parchment and a quill on her father's neglected desk, on which he had piled up such a huge chaos that the balance of each sheet of paper seemed to be holding by a thread. Researches about creatures' attacks, his orders of missions, ministry's letters, notes scribbled in a rush, maps of his district, a list of the future charged with crimes who will be sent to Azkaban... What?  
Kate lingered on the parchment, which she deciphered, her nose nearly stuck on the letters. Dozens of names were written, by Phil's hand. Some had been crossed out. Such as Walden McNair's. Crossed off. Ratified. Sent to Azkaban on a one-way trip, housing included. Why her father, a year after the war, would draw up such unhealthy list, including the names of Death Eaters, criminals... Next to them, the reasons of their sentences. Some terms were recurrent: murder, torture, accomplice, subjection to the Imperius curse, delation... Words that were giving her creeps.  
The piercing screech of Littleclaws, who was keeping a sharp eye on the young girl, diverted her from her thoughts. Grabbing a piece of blank paper and her father's eagle feather, she wrote a brief message:

 _"_ _Eliot woke up. Come back home as fast as you can!_

 _Kate."_

She rolled the message, tied it up and hitched it up to Littleclaws leg, indifferent.

'Go!' ordered her master's daughter as she opened the door. 'Hurry up, find daddy!'

Without a squeal, the tiny Northern Saw-whet Owl flew like a shot outside and glided as she rose up into the grey sky, looking for Phil. Kate watched her go away and disappear in a black spot. It was a matter of minutes...

Indeed, less than an hour later, her father's black car parked in front of the house. His vehicle was just a cover for the neighbour Muggles to believe he was going to work every morning, while actually, he just stopped five hundred yards further, parked his car and apparated at will wherever through his district. Strangely, Phil developed a liking for Muggle driving and the comfort the leather seats, magically requilted, were offering. With this new phenomenon's arrival, called the Internet, he would soon not need to make an excuse up as it seemed more and more normal to work at home on a computer; the only machine Phil was still having a hard time to handle as he thought, the first time he saw it, it was a typically Muggle musical instrument...  
Grace opened the entrance door before Phil even had the time to pull himself out his car. The latter seemed particularly nervous.

'Good', he squeaked. 'If that's a joke arose from Kate's frustration, that's not funny!'  
'No, it's true! There, look!'

His wife stuck the letter from St Mungo's into his hands. As words went by, a smile stretched on his face.

'T-that's incredible! I can't believe it... Let's prepare our luggage; we're going to London immediately!'

* * *

In Kate's heart was crackling the same feeling that had inhabited her during her first trip to London for her purchases at Diagon Alley: a mix of joy, apprehension, questions and an awkward familiarity. After so many ordeals, she was about to see her cousin again, the only person close to her by age and blood. Two young wizards, the only ones of their generation in the family. She remembered their games when both of them weren't old enough to attend Hogwarts, their role plays where Eliot's magical soft toys were acting as students for their lectures. Before even sitting on the school benches, they only had one dream: to go there.

'I take 10 points from Hufflepuff, Mister Bear!' was claiming five year old Kate, authoritarian as she was pointing out the teddy bear in the front-row. 'Don't put your fingers in your nose! And I saw you put your booger into Miss Dolly's potion!'  
'But, why you always take points to Hufflepuff since earlier?' Eliot was getting indignant.  
'Because first, Hufflepuffs, they are useless!'  
'That's not true!'  
'They have nothing special! Yellow is ugly, the lady who created Hufflepuff was a fat woman who always thought about eating, and plus, their animal is a badger! That's lame!'  
'Maybe you prefer Slytherins? They're mean and stupid! They have an earthworm for animal!'  
'My daddy was in Slytherin and he is not mean and not ugly like you!' Kate was defending herself, red with rage.  
'And me, my mummy was in Hufflepuff so you are not allowed to say Hufflepuffs are lame anymore!'

Those sorts of arguments had always been common practice between the two cousins. A kind of rivalry that started years ago, between an industrious big sister and a cunning little brother and that had carried on to the next generation. Until Eliot started Hogwarts a few months after the Dark Lord's return, at the end of the Triwizard Tournament that moved the entire country. Since Cedric Diggory's death and Eliot's compulsory order of residence, Kate had buried all her prejudices about Hufflepuff. She was persuaded he was finally home, where he would have been the most happy and blooming young wizard. He was the perfect representative of his blazon: kind, generous, mischievous and optimistic. But that was before the war... and the curse that had him laid up for two years...

* * *

Kate found again, with fascination, the crowded streets of London. During touristic bustles, Phil was pushing his daughter by her shoulder, avoiding her from being sucked up by all the visitors that came to discover the major places of the British capital during their summer holidays.

'Have you already been to St Mungo's, mom?'  
'No. And your father never told me about it. You know him; he has a pet peeve about hospitals!'

Since he learnt the new, Phil had surprisingly been quiet, saying only rare words in the car as he was driving. Even though Kate often knew him playful and in a good mood, she never saw her father jump for joy or express strong emotions. And where Eliot's awakening was something deserving to be greeted with euphoria, Phil was just showing the expression of an ice tank.  
Kate recognized the famous dirty shop window in which old dusty dummies were observing the passers-by, rigged out in antique outmoded clothes that weren't on the market anymore for twenty years. The lacking of a face on the big plastic dummies was reinforcing the embarrassment someone would feel if he looked at it too long. As during last Christmas holidays, Phil bent towards the window, stained by hand marks, and whispered:

'We're here to see Eliot Burbage.'

The slow gesture of the dummy provoked a shiver, both to daughter and mother, as it was inviting them to move forward.

'That's... horribly shabby!' swallowed Grace before her husband disappeared through the shop window.

The little girl grabbed her mother's hand and forced her to follow, head first in the window which fitted the shape of her face before changing her vision. Grace was taken aback as, in front of them, in the huge noisy entrance hall, future patients were passing by or waiting.

'I don't understand', was stammering an old wizard to a healer behind the reception desk. 'I only wanted to cast an innocent little _Lumos_ and... my nose started to flash! Look! See?! When I get angry, it lights up!'  
'Corridor on your right, service of Artefacts Accidents. Then, it will be the third door on your left, it will be indicated: "Wand backfiring". Think about buying a new one!'

As always, Phil passed in front of the queue and through the double-door separating the hall from the white deep entrails of the hospital. Kate quickly noticed the place had been renovated: there were no black spots on the wall anymore, no more damages and no more closed rooms. War had definitely been erased from St Mungo's. With white paint. The young girl was feeling her mother's shaking hand strongly squeezing hers between her fingers; Grace seemed fascinated and scared at the same time.

'Hmmmm, you look extremely pale, madam', said a portrait depicting a fat man in a brown doublet, making his pipe rebound as he articulated these words with his pinkie and fleshy lips above a greying goatee. 'Have you contracted the Troll's diarrhoea recently?'

'Is... Is that me you're talking to?' Grace immobilized in a sudden start.

She turned towards her husband who was ahead.

'Phil! There's... a painting... that's talking to me!'  
'Well, answer it!' he retorted.

Grace's disturbed gaze met again the painting's one who was creating curls of white smoke taking the shape of dragonflies as they came out of his pipe.

'No, sir, thanks for your concern' she replied before resuming her walk, her head down, dragging little Kate who was very amused by the situation.  
'Think, however, about drinking a decoction of bats' droppings, it may be bad for the breath, but it's excellent as prevention!'  
'That's pretty insane!' whispered Grace in a wide smile to her daughter, admitting the situation was rather amusing.

And, as they were climbing the stairs, Kate ran into someone she wasn't expecting to see, just in front of the access door to a floor:

'Smethwyck?!'

The little girl, sitting on a step and her nose stuck in a book, straightened up suddenly, shaking the brown locks around her baby face, and opened wide eyes. Her schoolmate gave her a genuine smile.

'Gee! If I knew I would find you here!'  
'Hello... Whisper...' mumbled Hygie with an imperceptible high-pitched voice, barely daring to look her in the eyes, before she got up while holding tightly her book against her.  
'Why are you here?' asked Kate, interested.  
'I help a bit... my father. I always do that... during holidays.'

Hygie had never talked for so long and Kate rejoiced, stretching her smile a bit widely. Then, she introduced the little girl to her mother:

'Mom, this is Hygie Smethwyck, she's in Ravenclaw.'  
'Nice to meet you, Hygie', smile Grace as she shook hands.  
'She's the most talented of our class! You should have seen the vase she transfigured during last year's tests! That was incredible!'

Hygie's face blushed suddenly as the little girl tightened her grip around her book.

'Is that true? Well, I'm glad to hear that! Err, Kate... I think your father lost us! We'd better catch him up!'

After briefs goodbyes with her schoolmate, Kate resumed her climb of St Mungo's' circular stairs. There was an unhealthy and disturbing atmosphere reigning on the fourth floor. The air was carrying along a whiff of madness, corrupted magic and sick minds. Like an incubator of unreasonableness.

'Where have you been?' wondered Phil, stopped in the middle of the corridor because he surely noticed his wife and daughter weren't following him anymore.  
'We ran into one of Kate's friends, we've been a bit held up...'

When Grace reached him, Phil felt she was quite nervous so he grabbed her hand to reassure her as violent screams resounded from one of the nearby rooms.

'Eliot's here?' asked Grace as she distinguished shadows through the opaque window of the door. 'But... it's a mental hospital!'  
'That's the floor for spells that turned badly, mom', Kate explained to her in a low voice as she was, herself, not very reassured by the place. 'People who became mad because of torture, because of the war. Those who didn't woke up, like Eliot...'

Some opened doors were allowing them to see wizards busy with their demented mysticism or their absent thoughts, which they were observing, posted in front of the white light of the window. When a healer, who was taking care of one of them, saw them passing by through the corridor and caught them up.

'Philippus Whisper?'

Kate immediately recognized the young trainee she met a few months ago, wearing squared glasses and a blonde mop of hair.

'That's exact.'  
'Hello, sir, we already met, I think', he pointed out as he shook hands, before briefly saying hello to Grace and Kate. 'I'm Asclepios Sting. It's I who was in charge of Eliot before he woke up.'  
'So that's true? Eliot woke up?'  
'Indeed, he did. Follow me; I will guide you to his room.'

The healer took the lead of the small group and Kate seemed to be counting each step separating her from her cousin. Her heart was beating at the surface of her half-opened lips.

'How did it happen?' Phil asked in a deep voice, his eyebrows frowned.  
'Nothing plausible could explain Eliot's awakening.'  
'Plausible? That means you have something crazy in mind, don't you?'  
'Well... Eliot regained consciousness yesterday, at 11:54 am exactly.'  
'I don't follow you...'  
'The eclipse, dad!' exclaimed Kate who understood. 'It was the solar eclipse!'

The 11th of august 1999 saw, passing through the sky, a black curtain that swallowed a big part of Europe; one of the most spectacular total solar eclipse the world had known for centuries. The day had been swallowed by the deepest darkness; night had reclaimed her lands for a few, clandestine minutes.

'The masters of astromancy never found the true properties of solar eclipses on magic, but some of them suppose that the interaction of the moon and the sun emits a magnetic field that influences magic... Perhaps did it free Eliot's spirit and allow him to wake up!'  
'The most important thing is that he is...' sighed Phil who didn't believe a single word of the healer's hypothesis.

Yet, when they reached the Cliodna room's door, he held Asclepios up a few moments:

'One last question...'

His grey eyes turned darker and Kate saw many fears passing through.

'Eliot... is he aware for his parents?'  
'You mean... that they're not...'

The trainee blemished and stammered:

'He asked us but... he thinks they're still alive. I'm not in the best position to explain to him what happened, especially as I don't know the circumstances of the incident...'

Kate noticed the contraction of a muscle in a shadow at the corner of her father's squared jaw, indicating his annoyance.

'You did well', breathed Phil. 'Can we come in?'  
'Of course!'

Without adding a single word, Phil opened the door and entered the tepid, almost cold room, followed by his daughter who nearly crashed into his legs as she moved forward in fast steps. In the first bed, a young man sitting suddenly turned his head, dragged away from his contemplation through the distant and bright window. All dressed up in white, in a hospital gown, a bracelet on his wrist with his name on it. Eliot always had these wild eyes and this characteristic expression; lips half-opened and a hanging-chin. Numerous times during their childhood, Kate hadn't hesitated from calling him "a mentally defective like the Muggles" during their quarrels, because of his dull expression stuck on his face, like a mask. But now that she was finally seeing again this face that had haunted so many of her nightmares, the little girl strangely felt thrilled. Eliot was back...

'Phil?' he wondered.  
'Hey, hi, kiddo! Happy to see you fit as a fiddle!'  
'Eliot!'

Kate couldn't hold herself any longer and rushed towards him to fly into his arms.

'We missed you so much!' she whispered as she hugged him tightly.

Taken aback, Eliot had a hiccup before he stared at her when she stepped away from him.

'K-Kate? You've changed so much!'  
'Let's say you hibernated a long time, Sleeping Beauty!' joked Phil as he took place on one of the chairs.  
'Healers told me I've been unconscious for... two years! Is that true?'  
'That's a long time, isn't it?'  
'What happened?' he started to get into a panic. 'The war? You-Know-Who? And my parents, where are they?'

Kate's emotions stuck in her throat at the idea of making dark memories, she had buried deep inside, to come up. But she was also feeling the still recent grief of her aunt and uncle, of which Eliot wasn't aware... Grace joined her and put a loving hand on her shoulder, as if she had read into her thoughts and was trying to bring her the comfort of her motherly presence.

'The war is over', declared Phil, more serious, while joining his hands on his laps. 'It's been more than a year now... There's no more Dark Lord, no more Death Eaters, no more hunts, no more of anything like that... The wizarding world is free.'

A fugitive smile stretched on Eliot's quivering lips, before he repeated:

'And my parents...? Why didn't they come to see me? They certainly know I'm awake!'

Kate swallowed with difficulty, short of breath. Should they tell him? Wouldn't it add more pain to tell him, while in hospital bed just after waking up from a two years coma, that his parents died? Torture. Cruelty of truth.

'Come, Kate', whispered her mother as she was gently pulling her by the shoulder after she shared a glance with her husband. 'Let's go grab something to drink for Eliot.'

The last gaze Kate shared with Eliot shattered her heart. She was reading in his lifeless eyes the feeling that they were hiding something from him. And he didn't want his cousin to go so soon, to abandon him once again...  
Mother and daughter left the room, their throats tight. Yet, they stayed behind the door without saying a word, their faces growing sombre. Kate was staring at the shadows moving behind the rippling window inlayed into the door. She feared the moment to come when her cousin's life would turn upside down...  
First there were screams. Going crescendo. And a dreadful crash, shrouded with yells. Kate's heart was tearing apart as she heard her father trying to calm Eliot down, shattered in noisy cries. Her own tears came up at the edge of her eyes before she snuggled up against her mother who wrapped her arms around her.  
War may have been over. For long. But its consequences would stay forever engraved in everyone's memories. Burnt in the children's flesh... All of that, for the glory of a man with no name.


	12. A dark story of socks

Oh Merlin's pants! I'm so so so completely truly sorry! I know I'm very late for this chapter but I got sick (the flu or something like that. Not funny at all, my head was like a pumpkin ready to explode). So there it is, I tried to do it as fast as I could given my state. And as Monday was a public holiday, I went to my family from saturday to monday so I wasn't able to do more translation...

Well, enough talking about my little life, you've waited for this chapter long enough!

Enjoy!

* * *

2\. A dark story of socks.

Kate made the way back to Carlton with her mother, who was driving Phil's black car. If the little girl remained quiet, Grace was trying to lighten the mood by cursing the car's radio, magically tuned for no one, except its owner, to be able to work a fiddle with his musical choices and CDs.

'Whoever you are, you are not allowed to insert a classical music CD, or I'll make your seat burn!' was threatening the drive, raucously.  
'And what would you say if I unplug you?!'  
'Grace, if that's you; know that Phil prepared a special playlist for you, in the case you would borrow his car or run away with it! He'd really like you to listen at some good music, for once!'

Guns 'N Roses' November Rain engaged in the reader as Grace was throwing herself back in her seat with a grunt and Kate was observing the landscape outside passing by under her saddened eyes. She had waited so long in St Mungo's with her mother; both isolated in the fourth floor's stairwell, where Eliot's screams couldn't reach their ears anymore. For an hour, Kate had been bitting her nails, hoping to swallow back her tears, while her mother, silent, was rocking her against her, without knowing what to say to comfort her daughter; words as bandages over wounds caused by the loss of a loved one only make things worse... Things couldn't get better. Not for the moment. Not until Kate returned to Hogwarts, letting the oppressing reality outside...  
Phil met up his wife and daughter only after the moment a healer took over as a presence for Eliot. Even though his pale face was letting no expression shown, they saw in his eyes he was exhausted. Since always, Phil never was very talkative about his feelings through hard times and just kept his troubles secret. Telling to his own nephew the loss of his sister was something irreconcilable with all of his principles he fed with his silence. Because the only time he had been capable of putting into words this significant event of his life, only his wife was there to hear it. He never talked again about aunt Charity, except in sentences containing less than ten words. Until this day...

'You should go back to Carlton...' he had said in a low voice.  
'We're not going back without you, dad!' Kate had gotten indignant. 'Or without Eliot.'  
'Listen, little pumpkin... We have some... things to settle with Eliot. We better do that alone, he needs peace... Time to recover. We'll meet you up in a few days.'  
'But...'  
'Kate, listen to your dad, for once!' had interrupted her mother with a calm voice.

The little girl had assisted to Phil's car keys handover to his wife and to their long hug before Grace had guided her by the shoulder as they had climbed down the stairs. When she had thrown one last look to her father who had been observing them, his fist stuck in his pockets, he had addressed a brief genuine smile to her, which had disappeared very quickly, erased by the grief weighing down his features.  
On their way to the car, Grace had strived to make her daughter understand the reality that she wasn't quite able to grasp, through their adults stories she should never have heard at her age. Last member of the Burbage family, Eliot had inherited his parent's properties, which implied administrative procedures with English banks as well as Gringotts, or talking about the future of the Burbage house. Painful stages, both for Eliot and Phil...

* * *

Night had already fallen when mother and daughter came back to 45 Owlstone Road, its 5 still missing. Kate dragged her feet to her room after saying good night to her mother, kissing her without great delight. She was feeling snatched by the world's troubles as if everything was lying on her frail shoulders. Despite the tough day, not an ounce of tiredness took her. Eliot's screams were still reverberating in her head. So she undertook to observe the night sky, leaned on the window. Shooting stars weren't few at this time of the year, small ephemerid wishes of former days that Kate was seeing from now on as subjects to study in astronomy.  
Trying to forget her problems, Kate thought about her friends. She had had the occasion to share letters with some of them, but she was only looking forward for one thing: go back to Hogwarts to share about their holidays, even though the idea of Maggie telling her in details about the Quidditch world cup that she missed caused her a twinge of regret. Then, she thought about the future repartition. Could it be possible that the Sorting Hat sends another first year in Shatterfly? Or will she be the only one, condemned to wander in the mystery of that one day?  
Even though she suspected that it was linked, Kate never talked about the subject of her special abilities with her father; the fact that she can practise magic without her wand. It was useless to worry him more, she had thought. She was considering this as her little secret, about which only three people were aware: Maggie, Morgana, without her knowledge, and finally her Transfiguration teacher, the little convenient Wolffhart. Kate wondered, besides, about Eliot's reactions in class when he will discover a teacher not depriving himself from swearing in German and turning his students into raccoons for a few minutes in order to make them cut out the tricks and games. That method proved itself; she had to admit it...!  
Yes. She was terribly missing life at Hogwarts.

* * *

The next morning, she was woken up again by the noise of claws knocking on the window. Disillusioned, Kate rolled several times in her bed before the squawking of the bird of prey, which had landed on a nearby oak tree's branch and was claiming to be let in, ripped her off her so comfortable bed, while Sir Sulkington remained clutched to the sheets, refusing to leave his couchette. Eyes heavy, hair tangled and entwined, she strolled about in her room with an urgent desire of roast owl. But her reaction was quite different when she saw the special calligraphy on the letter... Kate hurried to let the owl in. The bird dropped the envelopes on the floor before going away, as if nothing happened.

 **Miss K. Whisper**

 **45 (without the 5) Owlstone Road**

 **CARLTON**

A similar one was addressed to Eliot. Hogwarts never misses the opportunity to be aware of the latest news...! Removing the red wax seal under the school blazon, Kate unfolded her letter hastily as Sir Sulkington growled while dragging himself towards his mistress' neglected pillow in order to finish his nap. She already was stamping on her feet thinking about going to Diagon Alley. But most of all, to return at school.

* * *

Eliot and her father came back two days after, in the middle of the afternoon. This, besides, surprised Grace, who suddenly saw her husband and her nephew appear in a crack of a whip into the living room while she was reading a book of poetry, her favourite readings. Eliot's first Apparition made him so sick, it pinned him on the sofa. His state barely improved when his cousin rushed on him, perky, sticking his letter into his hands as he was still nauseous. Phil made several round trips like this, each time bringing packed boxes, which he put in a room; the one that would become Eliot's. The latter had been getting back to his house, dusty and abandoned, and had gathered his things to bring them with him. It took a move of his wand to Phil to turn out the old cupboard in the room into a comfortable bed on which Eliot, still quiet and pale, unpacked his objects in the solitude and silence of his grief. Kate was remaining still and worried, down the stairs, between the discreet conversation of her parents in the living room and the sound of Eliot unpacking his boxes. From where she was, she was seeing her father rubbing his forehead, bags under his eyes, negotiating Grace's presence in Diagon Alley, which she was apprehending in a low voice, for she never had been so close to the wizarding world, but she accepted nevertheless. Musical notes coming from upstairs pushed Kate to climb the steps on tiptoe. She bumped into her cat in the corridor and took him in her arms, as a way to comfort her, while the animal stayed passive, resigned by this surge of tenderness that seemed to greatly upset him, his eyelids squinted on his wall eyes. The little girl looked in the doorway, observing Eliot, bent, plucking the strings of his sparkling red electric guitar, which he hadn't plugged in. The young man, whose eyes were staring into space, was letting himself be lulled by the slow melody, remembering the memories linked to it.  
The call of her heart pushed Kate to half-open the door and to reveal her presence, which Eliot greeted with no reaction at all.

'Your guitar is nice', she said clumsily, without knowing where to begin.  
'Thanks...'  
'Can I sit with you?'  
'Yeah, if you want...'

Kate took place on the bed, embarrassed by the situation. However, this displeased Sir Sulkington who grumbled harder and harder, before he jumped on the floor and cleared off, his fluffy tail up.

'He doesn't seem very nice, your cat...'  
'He's a bit stupid. He's a cat!'  
'I thought your parents didn't want animals here...'  
'It's changed with time. A lot of things have changed... Besides, your voice broke! That's weird!'  
'Time did its work. Just because I was asleep doesn't mean my body should have stayed the same... But I must admit, that's strange to think I'm fifteen now, while I have the impression I was thirteen yesterday.'

No smile came to stretch his half-opened lips. The chock had been so tough on him. Overnight, Eliot had lost everything... Kate tried to do small talk:

'You must be happy to go back to Hogwarts!'  
'Has it changed a lot too?' he muttered, strumming his guitar with a vacant look.  
'There was war, a year after your attack. School was almost destroyed... But that's where Voldemort has been defeated. Since then, everything is better...! They're restoring the last buildings. And we have Harry Potter as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher! You'll see, he's awesome!'  
'And so, McGonagall is headmistress?'  
'Yes. A German teacher is replacing her in Transfiguration. Ok, I admit, this guy's a bit creepy... But he teaches well! There's Neville Longbottom too! In Herbology! He's head of the Gryffindor house!'

Eliot was still feeling the strings, listening with one ear Kate's words as she was trying to liven up the conversation. But she had to admit it would be difficult to divert her cousin from the lasting memory of his parents, who weren't there anymore. She then decided to step it up:

'I haven't been sorted into Slytherin', she announced after a deep breath. 'As you said... You were wrong...'  
'Oh...?' he muttered, faraway.  
'Nor Gryffindor, nor Ravenclaw...'

A compulsive ephemerid laugh seized the young man:

'He sorted you into Hufflepuff... Well. I guess I'm going to stand you longer than I thought...'  
'I'm not in Hufflepuff either...'

That last sentence awakened Eliot's interest. He raised his head and met Kate's insistent gaze.

'What?! But, where did they send you then? At the house elves'? At the ghosts'?'  
'The Sorting Hat sent me into... Shatterfly.'  
'You're kidding me. There's a new house? With a princess name? And how many of you are there?'  
'I am... Well, I'm on my own', she muttered as she blushed. 'That's so strange... No one has managed to explain. Why it happened to me. I'm crashing at Gryffindor until the mystery is solved, but I think I'm going to wait a long time...!'

Kate's voice was shaking while she was pronouncing those words, as a terrible reality falling onto her. A squatter; that's what she was reduced to. Unless she integrates the evidence that Shatterfly only was a blunder of the Sorting Hat.

* * *

The moon was high in the sky that night and its light was passing through Kate's window. The branches of the tree were sweeping their shadows across the floor, where parchments, wrinkled uniforms and school supplies were strewing out. The young girl was sleeping, her back on the translucent light, her face relaxed by the serenity of her sleep, lulled by dreams about Hogwarts, Quidditch and new spells. Innocence was rendering her features smooth, emphasized by her brown curls fitting the curves of her chin. At her feet bent against her, Sir Sulkington was coiled up, in a spotless ball, like a small furred moon on the dark sheets.

And in the shadow of the door left half-opened, Eliot's brown eyes, rendered black by the night, were looking over this scene. His fist clenched on his thigh, the reliefs of his neck moved while a not reassuring smile stretched his fleshy lips, turning his apathetic expression into a threatening face. One small purple reflection passed through his iris as a feminine voice reverberated in his mind: ' _And you will bring me Kate Whisper._ '

'Eliot?'

The teenager turned towards the whisper his uncle had just pronounced, on the other side of the corridor. Phil had gotten out of his room, his eyes sharp despite the late hour, wearing nothing but trousers, his wand in his hand gleaming in the dark.

'Why are you still up at this time...?'  
'I'm just coming back from the toilets', declared Eliot, looking sleepy.  
'Okay... Go back to your room, son, get some rest...'

With piercing eyes and eyebrows frowned, he watched the young man going back to his room and closing the door. The bad feeling that had pushed him to wake up appeared to be judicious: discovering his nephew watching behind the door of his daughter's room aroused suspicions he wasn't about to burry yet...

* * *

The little family decided to make the trip to London on the last days of August in order to make the school purchases and, for the kids, to take the Hogwarts Express. Eliot might have come back in the Whisper family, their financial situation didn't allow them to make several trips and to rent rooms for a long time.

Her clothes, last year's supplies, compass, Sir Sulkington's stuffs, purple scarf... Kate had checked her luggage at least three times before she decided to close the trunk, unsuccessfully. It was too full to close! All of this under the sneaky look of Sir Sulkington, lying on the bed as he was taking pleasure in contemplating human stupidity. She had to resort to her father's help, who settled this with a move of his wand after he had first made fun of her and this annoying obsession that pushes girls into filling their bags more than necessary, even if it meant pretending they put an entire staff of makeup artists house elves in. After a climbing down, for the least precarious, during which she almost got carried down by the weight of her trunk three times, she loaded it at the back of the car, helped by her mother. The latter was quite febrile at the idea of putting a foot in Diagon Alley, about which she heard so many times. All the more since she was aware of the reasons of this war, that had torn apart the wizarding world. With all those stories of pure blood, racial hatred and Muggles hatred... Grace had always been sensitive to other people's looks on her and that uncommon situation she was about to live was making her uncomfortable despite her impatience to discover this facet of the world. As for Eliot, as talkative as he was since he'd been back, Kate felt he was apprehending this new year, fearful at the idea of catching up, but also to see again his friends, who lived two school years without him. Two years; it was enough time to forget him. And, in times of war, to die...  
All four of them left the house, their heads full of questions, in such unusual moment...

* * *

'That dingy pub?!'  
'Sure, darling!'  
'If I catch the scab, I'm warning you, I'll burn up your car in retaliation!'  
'Oh, that's not my problem if you drink too much! Don't go after my car!'  
'Not the hangover, the scab! That's a sickness! A parasite!'  
'I learn more and more each day! I didn't know Muggles could catch parasites by going in pubs...!'  
'... Forget it.'

Kate's smile stretched up to her ears when she saw in the distance the shop front of the Leaky Cauldron, just like she remembered it. She voluntarily hit Eliot's arm, hoping to share her joy, however, the latter just shrug his shoulders, which noticeably dampened the little girl.  
It was full inside, as families, like the Whispers, were many to come from far, preferring to stay between wizards until the time for separation on platform 9¾. There were people from different horizons and different ages. If some students were discussing Hogwarts and lessons, some adults, not concerned anymore by that kind of conversation, were betting Sickles in the wizard version of poker in which cards can talk and lie to the opponents, bluff or even provoke them:

'So what? Are we clearing off?' were saying the cards of a tall wizard with a green hat. 'Sure your game is so lame it could make a troll throw up...!'  
'I know your mother has a pretty fragile stomach, but still...!' retorted the game on the other side of the table, held by an old stocky man.  
'It's packed', Grace noticed without daring to make a step before scanning the place with an alert look. 'Are you sure they will still have rooms?'  
'The Leaky Cauldron adapts itself to the customers, my dear little wife', explained Phil, his pace slow, but light, overwhelmed by a contained joy. 'If there's need for more room, it will create it. There will always be available rooms as long as there are people to occupy them!'

He approached the bar, followed closely by the rest of the small family. Kate recognized the young manageress: Hannah Abott, who had tied up her hair in a ponytail that day. With a skilful move of her wand, she served two Butterbeers to her customers before approaching the newcomers.

'Good evening', greeted Phil with his usual appealing voice, 'could it be possible to have three rooms for three nights?'

He raised three fingers as illustrations, his two elbows on the bar. But Grace intervened:

'Three? Are you sure that...'  
'I think Kate and Eliot are too old to sleep in the same room, they need privacy, if you ask me. But if you want their opinion, ask them yourself.'

Phil turned towards his daughter and nephew, who didn't react verbally, simply nodding to confirm his words.

'See, they agree with me!' he smiled.  
'Perfect! Here. That's for you.'

After quickly turning back to take the keys hung on the wall behind her, Hannah put them on the wood and made them slide towards Phil.

'No need to accompany you, I suppose...!'  
'We'll try not to lose ourselves in a straight corridor, thanks a lot!' joked Phil, who took the copper keys.

But as they were heading towards the stairs, the blonde manageress noticed Eliot at the back. She showed a furtive expression of surprise and left the counter in a hurry.

'Excuse me...! Wait!'

All four of them turned back as Hannah approached Eliot without taking her dumbfounded eyes off him.

'You're... Eliot? Eliot Burbage?'  
'Yes, it's me...' muttered the young man without understanding this intervention.  
'I'm Hannah Abott, I was in Hufflepuff, just like you... And you know...'

She was racking her fingers but didn't blink.

'Even if I wasn't in Hogwarts anymore, I learned what happened to you, by the others of the house. I'd like to present you my most sincere condolences... It must have been hard for you. We all sacrificed something in this war. You know, I lost my mother too, the same year as you... But I'm sincerely happy to see you alive and in good shape... I hope that... this new year will be fine. And that you'll get back on your feet in Hufflepuff.'

Hannah couldn't help but let a slight compulsive laugh out:

'The best of all houses...!' she added.  
'Fat chance... only dweebs', whispered Phil, derisive, at his daughter's ear. [1]  
'Thanks, it's nice', blushed Eliot, touched by this thoughtfulness.  
'Take care, Eliot...!'

* * *

Kate carried her luggage upstairs and settled down in room 42. She stayed an hour like this, rebounding on the old creaking bed, watching the Muggle street emptying at the beginning of the night, teasing Sir Sulkington who was turning his nose up at her for having been locked up in a cage during several hours, rereading her Hogwarts letter. Then, when she grew tired and started to feel hunger, her stomach rumbling, the young girl got out of the room and scampered along with a light step into the corridor. However, to her greatest surprise, a familiar voice called her out:

'Kate?!'

The sudden U-turn she made got her face to face with a schoolmate she knew very well: Suzanna, her Gryffindor friend with golden curls, addressed her widest smile to her. The latter was accompanied by another girl, younger, but looking so much like her that, if you watched at them too long, you could be mistaken.

'You scared me!' exclaimed Kate, taking a hiccup of surprise.  
'Really? I rarely do that...'  
'What are you doing here?'  
'What could I possibly be doing here? I'm hunting the griffon with a matchbox!'  
'What?!'  
'Of course not, you silly goose... I'm here until the 1st of September! Oh, by the way, this is my little sister, Stephanie...'  
'That's Teffie!' corrected the latter, flushing.  
'Oh, yes, I forgot she doesn't like her name...!'

Kate chuckled before she asked her:

'You're going to do your first year at Hogwarts?'  
'Oh no, I'm too young! I just came with Suzzie because they forced me to and because I like to piss her o...'  
'No swear words!' her sister called to order.

If the outspokenness of this little angel with big blue eyes had many reasons to amuse her, Kate preferred to remember her schoolmate's nickname:

'Suzzie? Are you serious? That's how they call you at home?! That makes me think of...'  
'A house elf's name? Yes, I know. But, hey, may I remind you that you don't get called by your entire name either, you're not in the best position to make remarks...!'  
'You're not wrong... Are you the only one here? I mean... from the house? Maggie, Scarlett, Moira...'  
'Hmmm, I ran into a few persons, but none from Gryffindor. I know that your Hufflepuff friend is here, Tommy...'  
'Terry?'  
'Yes, that's it.'  
'He's here?' Kate smiled, delighted.  
'Well, I know that Terry has a room here. But there's no chance you're gonna see him tonight, he told me earlier that he was going to the new restaurant that opened on Diagon Alley. A nice place, so I've been told! There's an orchestra of singing armours with a choir of owls that play while you eat and there even are imps that season your dishes in front of you! The cups change their colours and shapes according to your mood and there's a fountain of Butterbeer! That makes me want to take photos...!'

Kate's eyes widened with fascination as she imagined herself dining in that magical place.

'Wicked!'  
'You bet it is... We tried to convince our parents to go there...'  
'But they're a bit uptight', completed Teffie, nodding, very serious.  
'I mean... It's easier for Terry to go there, he's an only child! While there are six of us... can you imagine the bill?!'  
'There are six of you?!' wondered Kate, taken aback.

It was true that the young girl never took interest in her schoolmates' family lives to the point of knowing their composition. And she didn't think the Simmons family was so complete, especially as Suzanna was the only one at Hogwarts for the moment.

'Yes, we're four children! I'm the eldest, then comes Stephanie... yes, sorry, Teffie, Veronica and, finally, Tobias.'  
'And he's a real dick', added her younger, still with her industrious little good girl look.  
'He's still young...!' stood up for him the eldest. 'He's only six...'

While the two sisters were starting to debate on their little brother's fate, torn between the persecuted youngest child and the unbearable kid, Kate thought about her situation. Only child, the only presence of that kind she had was her cousin, Eliot. But she never had the chance to cajole a little sister nor to play with a little brother. That kind of relationship was something she didn't know, so she couldn't regret it. However, maybe an additional bond could have allowed her little family to be more united; around polemical dinners, family outings, out of ordinary games and the eternal duels with her mother around a draughts game... Maybe her parents thought about it one day. Oh, she was sure about it. But in the meantime, there had been war. Something no child deserves to go through.

* * *

The evening ended around a meal at the Leaky Cauldron, with her parents and Eliot. Grace, who thought the wizards' dishes were different from the Muggles' on many aspects, seemed nearly disappointed in front of her plate of stew, even though it was delicious and concocted by Hannah. Then they had a long conversation about Phil's job and how he got Littleclaws, his faithful Northern Saw-whet Owl. Kate never grew tired of this story; especially of the introduction sentence his father always said when he was telling it: "It was a little ball of grey feathers I could have crushed with my single hand. Apparently it's fun to crush a chick, it goes: 'PEEP' in a spray of blood!" All of this under Grace's disgusted expression and Kate's clear laugh. This night, there was also Eliot's indifference. The boy still wasn't expressing himself. He didn't pronounce a single word during the whole dinner, focusing on his meat and vegetables, listening with one ear what they were saying, without showing great interest. And despite the family's tries to make him talk, he always came back to his silence, in which he walled himself.

As night had fallen since long, the Leaky Cauldron was asleep like many of its customers, only a shadow was up in the corridor. Phil pointed his wand on the keyhole of the door room in which his daughter was sleeping and locked it up with a spell:

' _Collaporta totalum_.'

Then, his eyebrows frowned, he looked at the door room nearby, occupied by Eliot. In the darkness of doubt, it was better to be prudent...

* * *

The next morning, it was the stampedes of Sir Sulkington that woke poor Kate up, all stunned. He probably saw a mouse skipping about and let his bloodthirsty wildcat's instincts out. Unfortunately for him, the rodent was fast and cunning, taking advantage of the fat, fluffy white cat's slowness to take refuge into a hole in the baseboard. Touched in his self-esteem, the defeated cat was moaning, crawling on the old floor and playing with his claws in hope to make his prey come out.

'Just leave that poor mouse alone, Sir Sulkington...' recommended his young mistress as she got up, her step unbalanced and her hair messy. 'It did nothing to you... And, moreover, you woke me up!'

As an answer, the animal mewed with ferocity without leaving his eyes off his target, scratching the wood. Patience is the art of the hunter, he was perhaps thinking. What a stupid cat, thought however the young girl. She dressed up in a hurry, staring outside through the dirty window. The first Londoners were already going to work as she was going to Diagon Alley, doing her school purchases. Kate never regretted to be a witch, even if it had implied living harshly those past few years. How could these people survive in such a dull world? Just living with their steel technologies, without knowing about the beauty of spells and easiness of life? Yes. Being born a witch surely was one of the greatest things that could happen to her. And she had to make the most of her luck.

From the deserted corridor, Kate perceived the noises coming from the main room of the pub as soon as she stepped out of her room. Perhaps her parents and Eliot were already woken up since a long time. She dragged her feet towards the stairs and climbed down the first steps, scanning the tables. That's when she saw, in front of one of the windows, Terry, her Hufflepuff friend, chatting with Suzanna accompanied by her little sister who was listening to the conversation with a resigned look. When her schoolmate's head, with her golden curls, rose up towards her and she saw her, Suzanna exclaimed with a teasing smile:

'And here's our star!'

A delighted smile broke Kate's face when Terry noticed her presence too. But as she wanted to resume her climbing down, her foot slipped and missed the step. In a deafening crash, Kate tumbled down the steps on her legs and fell downstairs on her painful back. Numerous laughs rose up in the room while others, like Terry and Suzanna, worried and rushed to help their friend.

'Are you okay?' worried Terry as he helped her getting up.  
'Yes, I think so...' grimaced Kate while massaging her back. 'I'm used to it...!'  
'The fall of a star happens so fast, but I didn't think you would so perfectly illustrate it!' preferred to laugh Suzanna before going back to their table.

Kate took a seat next to Terry, while Teffie, who had remained in her seat unblinking, stared at her carefully.

'We were just talking about you', said Suzanna while sitting down.  
'About me?'  
'Yes. And Shatterfly. In your opinion, do you think the Sorting Hat will send other students here this year?'  
'I sincerely doubt it...! He's just gone mad on the moment... Old age, surely. Besides, how is the Sorting Hat?'  
'Knowing that he's one of the founders' items, probably a thousand years old!' thought Terry. 'And no wrinkles!'  
'But let's imagine it's the case! That there are other students sent into Shatterfly, just like you... What are you going to do?'  
'What do you expect me to do?' wondered Kate while shrugging her shoulders, caught off guard by the question. 'To throw purple butterfly shaped confetti and announce them that all of this is just big rubbish and that this fifth house is just an inventiveness of the Hat?'  
'Butterflies are lame', intervened Teffie. 'It's for baby princesses...'  
'For sure, there are better animals', chuckled Kate, between amusement and bitterness.  
'What would have preferred, a pig? A moth? A polecat?' mocked Terry.  
'I'd rather be in a house that exists already, plain and simple...'

Hannah's approach interrupted their conversation they were sharing bent over the table. The latter put her fists on her hips and stared at them, each in turn:

'So young people, what can I serve you for breakfast? Tea, eggs and bacon is okay for you?'  
'I'd rather have hot chocolate, madam', asked the little Teffie, detaching each of her words on a monotone, high-pitched voice.

Who couldn't fall for this little blonde angel who was staring at you with her big blue eyes? Certainly not Hannah, who melted, touched.

'Of course, miss!'  
'Excuse me, have you... by any chance, found a red hair clip yesterday evening?' asked Suzanna, blushing. 'I... I lost it and I think it was during dinner...'  
'No, sorry. If I find it, I'll let you know!'

The young manageress turned on her heels with one last smile and went to prepare the breakfast while Kate was smiling:

'Good to see you haven't changed! You still lose your things all the time!'  
'Mum says she's been affected by a Likho.'  
'A Likho? What is that?'  
'It's a one-eyed monster that lives in very dark forests. And sometimes, it comes into houses turned into an old lady and it kisses babies over their cribs. After that, children always have bad luck and lose their things all the time.'  
'That's a hypothesis that makes sense!' laughed Terry.  
'Rubbish!' claimed Suzanna, between indignation and despair, shaking her golden curls.  
'Who knows...! There are plenty of mysteries in this world!'

Speaking of mysteries, a lot of thoughts came into Kate's mind, whose eyebrows frowned. On her tongue, the words she wanted to tell them were clenching: her strange dream, Eliot's awakening matching with the solar eclipse... So she threw herself into the water:

'Did I tell you about my cousin...?'  
'It depends...! You know, I have no less than thirty cousins!' Suzanna put in perspective. 'So, your cousin, I don't know which one it is...!'  
'I only have one cousin.'  
'You talk about the one... the Death Eaters tortured?' grimaced Terry, uncomfortable.  
'He woken up.'

Terry raised a single brown eyebrow: a performance many tried to imitate but never as well as him.

'Really?'

Kate's expression, lips pursed, provoked a reaction from the Gryffindor girl in front of her.

'You don't seem really happy about it...!'  
'Oh, I am! I am truly happy! Relieved, even! But... Eliot, he is... changed. I mean... we told him his parents were dead when he came back. And I have the impression that he doesn't recognize anything...'  
'Is that a family thing to always be lost for the Whispers?'  
'I'm not really joking... Can you imagine if, overnight, you learnt that you slept for two years and your family is dead?'

Suzanna blemished, as well as her little sister, in a perfect synchronized portrait.

'N-no, that's... yes... I understand', she stammered.  
'I think I'll have to help him a bit for the beginning of the year. Support him and be there for him! I don't want him to feel alone.'  
'That's very honourable, really Kate, I admire you', Terry reasoned her, impressed by her commitment, 'but are you sure you won't annoy him for constantly being in his way?'  
'B-but... I can't leave Eliot like that! He seems so sad and...'  
'That's normal if he's sad... Poor thing. But that's not a reason for turning into his house elf or his mother! You're his cousin.'

Kate folded over her seat, persuading herself that her friend wasn't wrong. The plates, teas and hot chocolate arrived, reviving the good atmosphere, and the conversations about everyone's holidays resumed.

'My father bought me a new film for this year!' boasted Suzanna as she pulled out the camera that never leaves her side. 'It's bigger this time! I can take sixty-four pictures until the end of the year!'  
'By the way, you have to show us last year's ones!' exclaimed Terry while devouring his breakfast. 'I can't wait to see the one with Maggie levitating in the Hogwarts Express with smoke coming out of her bunny ears!'

Immediately, Suzanna's face lost its colours:

'I-I knew I forgot something at home...'  
'I can't believe it, what a moron...' sighed her little sister, resigned.

The young Gryffindor waited for the atmosphere to settle down, as well as for her shame, everyone focused on his plate, before she rose her camera up and put it in front of her eye in order to capture a picture of her neighbours facing her. Kate was chewing with a vacant look directed towards the outside of the frame, while Terry was tracking down the last drops of yolk with his brioche bread. He couldn't deny his sometimes exaggerated gluttony, which made him look a bit chubby. But he'd rather say it was contributing towards his height, bigger than average.

'That's a wrap! Whisper and Diggle exuding quick-wittedness in the morning! What better way to begin a new year?'

* * *

In fact, Kate had been the last one on her feet: she noticed it when Eliot and her parents came in the main room of the pub, ready for the morning of purchases. They had finished their breakfast a long time ago.

'What are you still doing here?!' wondered her father. 'Go take your coat before we leave without you and you think we abandoned you once and for all!'

Confused, Kate left the table, after she finished swallowing her meal at maximum speed, and climbed the stairs two by two, nearly falling again, while her friends were staring alternately at the members of the little family.  
In her room, Sir Sulkington was unabatedly continuing his roulades on the floor, well determined to be the master of his prey's fate that was certainly scoffing at him from its hideout. Throwing her old jean jacket, too small for her, on her shoulder and sticking her wand in her pocket, the young girl cleared off as fast as she came, leaving her pet to the deepest despair. He would probably grow tired of this...  
What a pleasure for her to see again Diagon Alley and its special atmosphere, when the wall opened in the pub's courtyard. A beaming smile also broke Eliot's face, the first one Kate was seeing since he was back into life. On one hand, how could you not feel intense joy seeing so much wizards and young students passing by, searching for supplies? As if this whole disparate and magically harmonious set was completely natural.

'Finally... we're arriving to this sad period of trials', Kate heard two men sharing about the Daily Prophet they had just bought and were reading together.  
'That will last a long time... Do you realize the number of Death Eaters and followers who are going to be judged within the next months?!'  
'My opinion, it will last more than a few months; surely years. Not only Death Eaters will go through this.'  
'What do you mean?'  
'Move', whispered Phil while pushing his daughter by the shoulder as he noticed she was following the sordid conversation with great attention.

Immediately, the young girl's thoughts dropped out the discussion she was listening to and hung on to the shop windows. A lot of young children, not old enough to attend Hogwarts, were going into raptures over the window of the Quidditch accessories shop, in which was exposed the last model of broomstick. Kate had had the occasion to read an article in the newspaper mentioning the famous Moonbrush, heir to its ancestor's values, the Moontrimmer, created at the beginning of the last century by a brave craftswoman who, snowed under her very high-performance broomstick's orders, didn't answer to every expectations. Let's hope this one wouldn't run out after a week either! The dream of having such a broomstick had already crossed Kate's mind, fascinated by this item, which she didn't handle very well though! However, she knew it was, for the moment, rather unrealizable, especially as she had very few chances to put a foot on a Quidditch pitch without risking her life by falling off her broom.

'What is... this huge building?' Grace asked in a hiccup, taken aback by the place.  
'Gringotts, one of the biggest wizarding banks in the world!'  
'Well... there's no famine in your world! Is that... gold?'  
'Seems so!'  
'Let's split up here', declared Phil.  
'Why?'

Seeing the anxious look of his wife, who pulled the corners of her mid-season long beige coat, he smiled and grabbed Eliot's shoulders.

'I will spend some time with my favourite nephew. We have to go to his vault and Ollivanders. Not forgetting uniforms. Those things grow up fast!'

With the Death Eaters' raid, Eliot's wand had disappeared the same day he had fell in his painful, long sleep. Whether it was stolen or destroyed, the young man was still deprived of his most precious item.  
Then, Phil took out of his pocket a small leather purse, making the coins inside it tinkle, which he held out to Grace while giving a friendly glance to his daughter.

'Kate knows about the monetary system, she will supervise you if needed!'  
'We meet here in an hour?'  
'Works for me!'

After one last wink to the two women of his life, the family dad dragged Eliot with him before passing through Gringotts' big golden gates, guarded by the statue of a dragon. Then, Grace turned towards her daughter. The latter read in her eyes a growing excitement.

'So! Where do we start?'

Mother and daughter's journey began at Flourish and Blotts, the librarian, in order to get the books Kate needed for her second year at Hogwarts. As she leafed through some books, Grace was keeping this stunned expression, lips wide opened.

'How can we study the centaurs' migratory flow, according to the moon's phases?!'

In the meantime, Kate was helping herself in the shelves, respecting the list with great concentration. However, she took advantage of it to let her attention slip towards another shelf, without any link with her school purchases. "Famous wizards of Middle-Age" was saying the old sign nailed on the wooden wall. A part of the young girl refused to stop her researches about the so-called founder of her house. Despite her fruitless tries with the famous Hermione Granger, her departure didn't mean quitting them. On the contrary, Kate had to double her determination.  
She ran her eyes over the edges of the books, searching for an interesting title. "The Small exhaustive Encyclopedia of Notable Wizards in Great-Britain in our distant ancestors' times" by Theobratis Troublemaker suited her. Checking that her mother wasn't around, too busy going into raptures over incongruous readings, Kate took the book from its shelf and inserted it between the two other books she was holding in her arms. Grace wouldn't see anything, thinking it was a book recommended by the school. And, indeed, when they checked out, no one made a comment.

'It will be three Galleons and twenty Sickles, please', squealed the little, plump seller.  
'Galleons? You want me to pay you with ships?!'  
'No, mum, it's the golden coins!'  
'Oh! Okay! So... three... and twenty what?'  
'Sickles, they're the silver ones, there. Dad really didn't tell you anything?!' the little girl almost got indignant. 'But what do you talk about at home, then?'  
'Are you a Muggle or what?!' wondered the witch, a bit annoyed.

Transfixed by such an assertion, Grace blemished and tried to mumble a few words, before her daughter took over, avid to stand up for her.

'Yes, she is', she answered politely. 'Is that a problem?'  
'N-no, not at all...! Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, this should be it! Thank you!'

When they finished their purchases, Kate and her mother went back to the meeting point, but nor Phil nor Eliot were back yet. Leaning against one of the walls around the place, they observed the sky. It wasn't very hot for a month of August and the sun was taking refuge behind a thick fence of grey, threatening clouds.

'Why do you know so little about the wizarding world, mum?' asked Kate, raising her eyes towards her. 'It's been a long time that you're with dad...'  
'You know, your father always wanted to preserve me from the wizarding world. I know some things, objects, spells, he uses at home. But who knows why, he never brought me here before today.'

She let out a small nervous laugh before she sighed:

'You know, I have the feeling that your father isn't like any other wizard. I can see that even better here! First, he's not wearing the same outfits!'

Indeed, the days during which Phil had worn a real wizard robe were inexistent, as he was too attached to his Muggle jeans and leather jacket.

'Even if he uses magic from time to time, he doesn't speak very much about it. He has his car. He has his Muggle habits, in a way. He has always been like that, but especially from the moment Voldemort came back.'

Grace was pronouncing these words without any fear, having no clue about the taboo that had been lying in that name.

'I don't really know what happened before that caused such a gap between him and his world, his life at Hogwarts when he was your age. I mostly believe he wanted to protect us, you and I. Your father, in his young age, has befriended with people who, after that, became criminals, even murderers. This must have harmed him a lot... He never wanted to hide that from me.'

It was with great attention that Kate was listening to the confessions of her mother, who was opening up to her.

'Sometimes, I have that feeling that I don't know your father very well. But it's just a feeling...The fact is that he left his past life behind him to build a new one with you and I. And he's having much success with it; and that, on the other hand, is something he never stops telling me, believe me!'

Grace's smile was contagious.

'So, don't think your father failed in his duty because he told me nothing about all of this. Be indulgent and don't blame him. He did it for our own good. I think he would be offended by the remark you made at the library. He constantly doubts about it and, sometimes, he feels guilty about the choices he made, even though he doesn't regret them. So... don't hurt his feelings.'  
'Okay...' accepted Kate, touched, as she nodded.

* * *

The day of the comeback, King's Cross station witnessed very particular crowds of young students with leather luggage, accompanied by parents sometimes wearing rather noticeable outfits. Nothing to arouse terrible doubts, but sometimes, badges or tie clips could be caught moving in the corner of the eyes. It was nothing compared to the reactions caused by the presence of an owl's cage. Yes, Kate always had that damn thought in mind... This might have deserved a book, entitled "Nearly-philosophical essay about the insane reason why Muggles ignore that much the owls on the day of departure of the Hogwarts Express". If not, someone really had to write it...!

'Did I tell you I almost missed my train on my first day?'

Eliot's anecdote caused a jump from his cousin. But she didn't miss that unique occasion to speak with him.

'You're talking about the one when two seventh years enchanted you shoes on the quay?' she chuckled.  
'This one. The oldest love sometimes to make fun of the new ones; no way I could unknot my laces and I had to jump with both feet to move forward, falling every two meters. My parents had to throw me in the train before the doors closed.'

This memory caused in him a vast number of feelings; it was noticeable by the features of his face: brief anger, then relative amusement and, finally, grief.

Kate preferred to end on a more positive note:

'Well, when you're in seventh year, at least you won't lack of ideas for the new ones!'  
'Oh yes. And I'm sure there are better things to do! Like...'  
'Sticking Drooble's Best Blowing Gum in hairs! My father already did that... didn't you, dad?'  
'If you start taking example on me, you brats, I won't answer to consequences!'

After a compulsive laugh, Phil still added:

'Until you can replace a teacher's whole wardrobe by glitter tutus and unicorns dressing-up clothes, there's some leeway! If one of you does better, I will consider him as my master!'  
'Don't encourage them to do stupid things, ingrate father', said Grace as the two kids laughed, picturing the reaction of the teacher involved.

After they passed through the wall separating platform 9¾ from the normal people's world, the little family worked its way through the crowd that had gathered here. Kate recognized, here and there, some faces that were, more or less, familiar; elders or students of her year. Strangely, as every time that she had stepped a foot on the quay of the Hogwarts Express, she met Calypso Curtiss' eyes, the young Slytherin with black silky hair, her eyes shining and her skin pale, like an allegory of the pernicious grace. However, Calypso's act last year, when she warned Kate about Morgana's designs, aroused her curiosity about her. She wanted to thank her, without knowing where to start and how to tell her gratitude. Because the young girl with the green blazon always, in some way, impressed her. As usual, she was accompanied by her family, all identical, the straight bearing, the haughty look and lack of smile, the same mortuary complexion. There were her youngest sisters, who were twins, and her little brother, even paler than the other members of the family, that Kate never had the occasion to see yet. The latter greeted her schoolmate with a nod while keeping on walking.  
While they were busy loading some luggage, Kate was called out by two synchronized voices and, as she turned back, found herself face to face with Terry and Maggie. Her friend hadn't changed much since June, even though she slightly tanned, testimony of the unforgivable holidays she must have lived this summer. Kate felt a twinge of regret at the idea that she didn't manage to come to the Quidditch world cup in Singapore, the final match at which the little girl had had the chance to be. Peru had been crowned world champion, the only title this legendary team wasn't possessing yet.  
Maggie didn't start by greetings, but by her usual smirk:

'Can we see your socks?'

Under normal circumstances, anyone could have found this question completely absurd. But Kate remembered what Terry told her at the Leaky Cauldron on the day before: he and Maggie got into a new deal involving the colour of Kate's socks on the day of the comeback. The two friends never missed a chance to beat the other into insane challenges and poor Kate often found herself, against her will, in the middle of them. However, hoping to win this one at all costs, Terry told the most concerned person. He bet her socks would be green and Maggie, that they would be purple. Twist of fate: Kate had no green socks and the two friends found themselves having to magically turn the colour in her room at the Leaky Cauldron in order to make Terry win.  
Pretending not to understand why, Kate, as she wasn't wearing the school uniform imposing grey or black socks with the skirt, raised one of her trousers' legs, revealing her green socks. This view made Maggie blemish and Terry smile.

'How dare you do this to me right from the start of the year?!' she took offense.  
'Hello Maggie, I'm glad to see you too!'  
'Purple socks would have killed you, for charred salamander's sake?! Purple is your colour, why are you wearing green?!'  
'I won', reminded Terry, proud of himself.  
'You and I, we're going to talk tonight!' Maggie kept on, pointing out Kate with her finger. 'I'm thinking about imposing you to sleep on the floor in order to teach you to wear purple more often!'

Yet, her threats were greeted by chuckles more than by indignant or fearful looks. It was good to see that the little girl was remaining faithful to herself. Whimsical, terribly bad loser and easily irritable.

'And... what does Maggie have to do this time?'  
'Kate!' called her father as the train was leaving.  
'I'll tell you when we're in the train!' said Terry before clearing off to say goodbye to his own parents, while Maggie couldn't manage to get over this new defeat, grabbing her hair by the handful and muttering all sorts of imprecations against her friend.

Kate joined her parents as Eliot scanned his environment with a bit absent look, like he was vaguely searching for some faces he knew. But no former schoolmate called him out or came to meet him.

'You should take off before the train goes without you!' worried Grace as most of the students were already inside the Hogwarts Express.  
'She's right, it's out of the question that I put up with you two at home for ten months!' joked Phil.

He paternally rubbed Eliot's mop of hair and hugged his daughter before Grace did too.

'Look after your cousin', she whispered.  
'I promise, mum.'  
'And take care of you.'  
'With your lucky charm pendant, I'm safe!' Kate reassured her as she showed the amethyst disk she was wearing around her neck.  
'Knowing you, you're able to fall into a crack full of Screwts if you don't watch out, so I repeat what your mother said: stay on your guard and...'  
'Yes, I know dad, I know... The war, all this, I know your drill.'  
'What a smart girl, just like her dad!'

Then, they climbed on the train, but Kate couldn't help herself from looking behind, at her parents, in the middle of the congregated crowd who was addressing their last goodbyes. A brief moment of sadness that would soon be replaced by the joy of going back to school. However, she had this awkward feeling whispering that, by the time she would come back, nothing would be the same in the Whisper family... A bad feeling she couldn't fight down deep inside of her...

* * *

[1] In French the word "blaireau" is the same for "badger" and "dweeb". It's an "insult" as well as the name of the animal, hence Phil's joke.


	13. A Japanese, an Irish

Yayyyyyy! Just on time! Told you I would make it. I'm a little bit late because I had to translate the Sorting Hat's song, which isn't a piece of cake when you're not 100% comfortable with the language! But I did it, and I'm proud of it!

Enjoy this new chapter!

* * *

3\. A Japanese, an Irish.

When the doors closed, announcing the departure of the train, and the red locomotive doubled its speed, spitting out curls of white smoke that drowned the noisy quay, Kate moved forward into the carriage while it was starting to slowly slide on the rails. A few compartments later, she found Maggie and Terry who were discussing about the young girl's defeat to the deal made on the quay. She didn't seem to see her friend behind the sliding glass door.

'That's completely impossible she's wearing green!' she was bawling, red with rage. 'I know her, Kate Whisper! I share a room with her! I know what's in her luggage! Purple, red, black, grey, at a pinch light blue. But she NEVER wears green! Why would she wear it today? Tell him, Kate!'

Apparently, Maggie did see her! Kate had a hiccup when she met her friend's furious eyes and opened the door. However, her temper tantrums didn't miss to make her smile.

'Tell him!'  
'It was a stroke of luck!' she assured while shrugging her shoulders. 'You know, my mother buys me new clothes during summer!'  
'You didn't have any hole in your socks last year and you didn't change your shoes either, your feet didn't grow... So why would she buy you a new pair?!'

When she was losing her temper, Maggie's potential of deduction was particularly redoubtable. Her dishonesty had something to do with it too; she would always find a reason to prove that the others were wrong.

'My mother isn't allowed to buy me socks?' wondered Kate, still standing in the doorframe, while the train was leaving London.  
'In this case, no, it destabilized my forecasts!'  
'Hmm. I see... And what was the bet about, this time?'  
'You know that Ginny Weasley isn't at Hogwarts anymore?' started Terry, smiling from ear to ear.  
'Yes, I know. What does this have to do with Maggie?'  
'There is no longer any Seeker in the Gryffindor team...'  
'And so...?'

The time she pronounced those words, Kate's thoughts assembled in her head while her eyes alternatively looked Terry and Maggie. Her mouth forming an "o", she exclaimed with a high-pitched voice:

'Maggie's going to apply for the post?!'  
'I wasn't planning to, basically!' grumbled Maggie, sulking on her seat.  
'Trials are in October. I don't want to miss the chance to see her trying to catch a Snitch in front of everyone!'  
'Know that I'm quite good!' she defended herself, arms crossed, with a smirk. 'If you were counting on humiliating me, you're whistling up the wrong neck of the wand!'

However, Kate put aside her excitement, showed a brief smile and took a more serious expression:

'I'm coming back later. But... I have to find Eliot.'  
'Who's that?' eructated Maggie in a not very elegant way, unfitting to her usual manners.  
'Her cousin', answered Terry in a lower tone to make her understand they were tackling a sensitive subject about which it wasn't appropriate to talk in that tone.  
'Oh! I thought you found a new one to your liking!'

She reacted just a few seconds after, opening wide eyes:

'Cousin?! Your cousin?! Eliot, your cousin?!'  
'You take time to catch sometimes...' Terry joked.  
'I'll explain tonight, in the dormitory', sighed Kate.

Without any more words, the young girl went out to search for her cousin. In the corridor, Marvin Ledger was testing some shrieking darts to scare the girls in the compartments, until sixth years Hufflepuffs decided to chase him after they screamed, terrified. Kate didn't talk to that boy, even though he was in her year. She had had the occasion to share a few words with his twin, Phyllis, during classes, but Ravenclaw girls weren't renowned for their loquacity. The twins seemed to be the opposite: the girl never was far from her bunch of friends but was hiding behind a timidity that seemed insurmountable, whereas the boy, even though a loner, never missed an occasion of being noticed. Somehow, Kate couldn't help but making a connection with her father.  
She found Eliot, alone in one of the compartments, his eyes fixed on the forest landscape passing by the window.

'Eliot...?'

Her cousin, too obsessed by his thoughts, didn't answer nor react, his gaze lost outside. So Kate approached him and sat in front of him. Joining her hands and biting her lower lip, she thought about the best way to talk to the young man who, yet, was part of her family. Why was it so hard to reconnect with him, while he always was much more sociable beforehand? For sure, Eliot had always been a sidehead kid, but he never depreciated a conversation.

'Are you... okay?'  
'I am', he sighed not very sincere.  
'Why are you staying alone? It makes me sad...'  
'That's nice but you don't have to worry, Kate.'  
'You sure have friends in that train. Who don't know you're here! What if we go and surprise them?'  
'I'm not much into the revenant joke', he chuckled.  
'That's not a joke! I'm sure they will be happy to see you again. Come on, please, I'll come with you!'

As soon as she finished her sentence, she got up on her feet in a jump, emboldened with a new courage and encouraged Eliot to do the same. The latter, resigned, sighed before following his cousin into the browsing of the train. Kate's touching naivety that characterized her so much resurfaced as the young girl consulted the people in each compartment, asking them in a charming smile, still lacking of harmony in the arrangement of her teeth, if they knew Eliot. Some Slytherins laughed at her without even answering her, before getting into imitations of her. Other Gryffindors advised her to ask to Hufflepuffs, who had more chances to know the young man who was belonging to their house.  
An inopportune encounter made Kate grimace as she saw further, Juffbigles busy handing over candies – which he certainly provided himself by some illegal means –, in exchange of Chocolate Frogs' cards. Out of the question to backtrack. And as she expected, the plump boy with heavy eyes approached her with his usual apathetic look:

'Hey, Whisper! It's been a long time!'  
'Yes, yes, Juffbigles, since June, indeed', smiled Kate, hoping to hide her annoyance.  
'I have Fizzing Whizzbees, far less expensive than this vulture's ones with her trolley. You want some?'  
'No, sorry, I... already bought her candies!' she lied, trying to escape his attention. 'Another time!'

Eliot, who was following Kate in an uncommitted step, went past Juffbigles, who was twenty inches smaller than him, and the latter couldn't help but react when he saw his badge sewn on his uniform:

'Hey man, you're in Hufflepuff? I do a discount for the people of my house! You want some Bertie Bott's beans, without the bad tastes?'  
'Don't listen to him, lower your head and don't turn back!' whispered Kate, speeding up, hoping to shake him off.

The reunion kept on when Kate bumped into some other Gryffindor friends in another compartment: Scarlett was throwing candies to Moira, who was trying to catch them with her mouth, while Suzanna was photographing the scene.

'Merlin's pants, you managed to stuck it into my nose!' exclaimed Moira, half laughing, standing up on the seat.  
'Are you coming to see Moira's death by candy?' joked Suzanna to greet her friend. 'Apparently it's painful...!'  
'Sorry, sorry, sorry...!' apologized Scarlett, pale and feeling terribly guilty. 'I was trying to aim at your mouth!'  
'Don't become a Chaser, Scarlett, ever! If you confuse a nose with a mouth, you could be able to do the same with Bludgers and Quaffles, without knowing how to aim!'

Kate's heart lightened with happiness thinking that she was about to carry on her studies with those girls to whom she had became attached. This second year will take place under the best auspices, she felt it.

'Eliot, let me introduce you Scarlett, Moira and Suzanna, who you may have seen at the Leaky Cauldron those past few days. They're my Gryffindor friends. We're in the same dormitory.'  
'Hello', he greeted them without much eloquence.  
'Girls, this is my cousin. He's back at Hogwarts!'  
'Did you warn him about the crank we have as Transfiguration teacher since last year?' asked Moira, the bean still stuck in her nose.  
'That's the first thing I told him.'  
'At least he won't be surprised when Wolffhart turns him into a woolly billy goat because he wanted to reproduce a farmhouse in the classroom!'  
'I'll be back later', finished Kate, regretting to put her friends aside in order to continue her searches.

Walking away, she overheard the last conversations: Moira, succeeding to pull the candy out of her nose, had handed it over Suzanna, maintaining that it was now booger taste certified; this earned her disgusted moans.

'You really don't recognize anyone since earlier?' wondered Kate while they were keeping on their exploration.  
'I have vague memories of some faces... But, you know, people change in two years and a half. And I don't know everyone... I won't invent a friend just to please you and help you sleep well!'  
'Eliot?'

The two cousins made a U-turn at the interpellation addressed to the eldest. In the corridor, a tall young man, dark hair and glasses on his long aquiline nose, was observing them with wide eyes. No doubt he knew Eliot. Or at least, his dazed gaze was suggesting it. Eliot's eyebrows frowned and he stammered:

'C-Clive?'

Without a warning, the newcomer rushed towards his friend and hugged him. Eliot didn't know how to share this embrace. In front of that scene, Kate's heart lightened and she gave an imperceptible sigh.

'I thought I wouldn't see you again!' exclaimed the surnamed Clive, whose naturally pale face was bringing out his surprised and touched emotions.  
'M-me neither... With the war, I...'  
'Enough talking about this, it's over. Eliot... Man! If you knew how much we worried about you!'

Without noticing Kate's presence, Eliot's long lost friend started to drag him with him, but the little girl decided to intervene:

'Excuse-me, I...'  
'I already told your friends that the candy lady will arrive soon', he answered, annoyed and avid to talk in peace with Eliot. 'Go back to your compartment or you'll miss her!'  
'She's my cousin', said Eliot, sharply. 'Don't talk to her like that!'  
'Oh! Excuse-me! I had no idea! It's just... since I am prefect and we left London I'm getting harassed by first years, they only swear by that bloody trolley! If only they knew all the rubbish they put in those candies...'  
'I'd like to talk to you, Clive', declared Kate without freaking out.

Disconcerted, the tall boy nodded, glanced one last time at Eliot before isolating with Kate between two carriages. Alone with the prefect, she noticed his badge indicating his house: Ravenclaw. She couldn't help but feeling proud of her cousin for sympathizing with members of other houses than his, which didn't seem to be obvious for a majority of students who became, in spite of themselves, quite sectarian.

'So... you're a friend of Eliot's.'  
'That's right. And you're his cousin?'  
'Kate.'  
'Kate Burbage, if I'm right...'  
'Whisper', she corrected, puffing out her chest. 'I'm a Whisper.'  
'Oh!'

Clive exclamation made her jump.

'It was you, last year's girl with the Sorting Hat? Who had announced a new house?'  
'Y-yes, it's me.'  
'Clive Ollivander, to serve you.'

He reached out his hand with a wide clumsy smile and Kate had the feeling to be considered, for a short moment, as a little celebrity.

'Ollivander...' she repeated with a quivering smile as she shook hands with Clive. 'Like the wand maker?'  
'He's my grandfather... But this is not the point.'  
'It isn't, indeed. Listen, Clive... I...'

Not knowing where to start, Kate tangled her fingers while biting her lips.

'Are you aware? About what happened to Eliot.'  
'We all learned for his mother who disappeared, he grimaced. Two years ago... But... we never really knew what happened to Eliot. We didn't see him again at school. As it was war... We assumed he took refuge, with his father, until the end, until the battle of Hogwarts. But he didn't come back... And he never sent me letters...'  
'Eliot was at St Mungo's...'  
'What?'  
'He's been unconscious. For two years. It's only been three weeks since he woke up... He didn't know his parents didn't...'

In front of Clive's gaze, inside which was growing a shadow of sadness, Kate's words shirked on her tongue, leaving nothing but an awkward and sad silence.

'Take care of him, okay?' she squealed.  
'I will, yes. Anyway... thank you for taking care of him like you do. He's lucky to have a cousin like you.'

After one last smile, Clive left the narrow, noisy place, bumped along by the rails. Kate stayed there, still, for a few minutes, lost in the vastness of her thoughts. Her gaze turned towards the window of the door as the Scottish forests were passing by under a threatening sky. In the course of an image, a landscape, the reflection of her own grey-green eyes imposed at her; accidental introspection. Until their colour turned darker and the lines of her eyes undulated, confronting her to a whole different look, which didn't belong to her. Like two dark sapphires inlayed in a pale, piercing box.  
Retching, Kate made a U-turn in a hiccup of surprise. Yet, no one was standing behind her.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express' wheels screeched a long time on the Hogsmeade's rails. A pouring rain was falling down on the North of the country and the students were reluctant at the idea of going out of the carriages. Some of them were screaming, with discontent as much as joy of being finally here, running with their heads under their capes, while the most talented were using the Impervius charm.

'Firs' years!' rang out Hagrid's voice, his pink umbrella opened above his wild hair.

Kate jumped from the wagon to the quay and her shoes slammed on the wet floor. Behind her, Terry and Maggie came out too, the latter cursing the torrential rain that was compromising her nice, well-kept hairstyle, with wide curls.

'Where do we go?' worried Kate without points of reference.  
'Follow the crowd', advised Terry. 'We don't take the boats anymore!'  
'They're gonna sink with that water!' joked Maggie, trying to calm her anger. 'Tomorrow on the headlines: "Hogwarts: all first years, drowned in the lake"!'

They took the muddy path leading to the edge of the forest, keeping on their jokes and remembering last year's memories. Especially the moment when Kate nearly fell into the water, if it wasn't for Maggie who managed to catch her in time. Six by six, the students took place in big covered stagecoaches. Kate climbed first in one of them and settled down on the bench at her left; the seat at the front. Maggie and Terry took place near her, on the same bench, the young Gryffindor rushing inside and shoving her friend as if the rain had suddenly turned into acid.

'I hate rain!' she yelled. 'Look at my shoes! They're all dirty now! Such nice leather... ruined by mud!'

On the bench in front of them, three other students took place and Kate recognized the Ravenclaw boys who were in the same year as her: Emeric Beckett, fair-haired boy with glasses, the most brilliant of their class, Fergus Fittle, small, rounded face, a black mop of hair on his head and Dexter Doxmornt, a giant compared to his classmates however as fearful as a rabbit. Without saying a word, the six children shared briefs embarrassed smiles; fugitive and silent greetings. Even though they were together most of the time during classes, the different houses of Hogwarts were rarely fraternizing between one another like one single class. Except unique cases; like Kate or Terry, the latter having contacts in each house thanks to his natural sympathy. He was, in fact, the only one to know the Ravenclaw boys for having spoken with them at least once during last year; which wasn't the case for Kate, or for Maggie who was staring at them with a contemptuous look, pulling back on her cape to avoid a lout to ruin it with mud.  
Then, the jaunting car started to move forward on the muddy paths that were leading to Hogwarts. Her curiosity aroused, Kate bent and pulled a piece of the dark cover, which yet wasn't wet, protected by a spell. But imagine her surprise as she expected to see horses... They certainly looked like horses, but black and emaciated. Their thin skin glistening under the rain, highlighting their bones and a pair of wings folded up on their sides. At their back, their long thin tails, ended by a tuft of hair, were swinging.

'What is that?!' she said in a hiccup after her heart jumped in her chest.

Hearing her, the five other students bent in turn and observed what caused Kate's surprise. Fergus opened wide eyes, giving him the look of an owl, Terry raised one eyebrow and Maggie snickered:

'There's nothing, Kate... They're invisible horses! Didn't you know?'  
'In-invisible?!'

And as no one was retorting to Maggie's assertion, who seemed to be right, Kate folded back on her seat, confused. After one last look at those creatures she seemed to be the only one to see, she dropped the cover and listened with one offended ear the discussion between Maggie and Terry about that fact. However, another voice, whispering, broke her thoughts:

'I can see them too...'

Raising suddenly her head up, her eyes met Emeric's who had bent towards her to tell her this, in order to not be heard by the others.

'Y-you see them? Those black horses?'  
'They're Thestrals.'

Kate took a moment of silence hearing Emeric's calm words, checking that the others weren't listening. After all those debates around her and Shatterfly, she didn't want to sound like a crazy person once more...

'Why do we see them? And the others don't...'

Emeric adopted a more sombre look, rather embarrassed, before getting into calm, whispered explanations:

'Thestrals are creatures of the dark and death. Before, it wasn't a good sign to see them...'  
'Are we going to die, are we cursed?!' suddenly worried Kate, her whisper compromised by quavers.  
'No, no! Don't panic! It's not that...! I mean... only people who saw someone die can see them...'

Kate's head turned towards the cover, as if she was going to see through it and observe again the stature of those disreputable beasts. Indeed, she had the occasion to see death. However, facing it was a still very vague memory; the one of the cellar in Graveson... She didn't want to see that unanimated corpse, lying in the dust of that dirty room anymore. Their aggressor. A Death Eater. The one that once was Morgana McNair's godfather.  
But that also meant that Emeric himself had to assist to the death of someone too and now, the Ravenclaw boy was sharing her secret... Both of them retreated into silence, looking away from each other.

* * *

A feeling of uncontrollable joy took Kate when she climbed down the jaunting car and stepped the first stairs of Hogwarts leading to the Great Hall. The same frenzy was animating all the students, whatever their age, as amazed as if it was the first time they were discovering the place.  
However, around Kate, were watching numerous suspicious looks at the memory of what happened last year. With one same question in all minds: will this mistake happen again?  
Kate took place at the Gryffindors table with Maggie, waiting for the three other girls to join them. Observing her elders and schoolmates settling down, her gaze however stopped on Griffin Gale, on the other end of the table. The latter was sharing some jokes with his biggest friend, Ewan McAllister. Griffin always was a good talker, had appealing gestures, never hesitating to go towards others to chat. In a way, he was a leader, loved and confident. And this natural ease fascinated her.

'I think Kate has been cursed...'

Moira's voice diverted her from her contemplation and she noticed that all the Gryffindor girls were staring at her with the same wide smile that was saying much.  
Her cheeks blushed with embarrassment.

'I-it's not true!' she denied.  
'Yes, yes, of course', joked Suzanna. 'You look like Scarlett when she sees Crivey.'  
'I don't know what you're talking about!' took offense the affected girl, tensing up on her seat.  
'If I scream in order to make him come, do you think she'll say the same?' started to plot Moira.  
'Y-you wouldn't dare!'  
'You think? I may be a dwarf but I have the vocal cords of a troll!'  
'Not only the vocal cords, if you ask me', added Maggie, who would never miss a chance to taunt Moira, with who she shared a fraternal rivalry relationship, punctuated by many snags.

Silence fell by itself when the first years entered the Great Hall. Most of the students were whispering about their feelings or encouraging a brother or a sister with a look, others, more childish, were impersonating the most noticeable ones, like this little boy with an already well chubby belly for his young age, moving forward in a strange walk, like if his legs were made of wood.

'When I think that last year, we were as ridiculous as them today', whispered Maggie. 'Fortunately, ridicule never killed anyone.'  
'I don't see what's ridicule in this', smiled Kate, moved by all those students, barely younger than her, still timid and their heads full of hopes.

Just like the previous year, it was professor Flitwick who was leading the troop, before he climbed on the stage in front of the professors' table. Kate reviewed the teachers: Harry Potter had graced them of his presence and was whispering some words to his friend, Neville Longbottom. If the latter had made the effort of wearing a nice wizard robe, like some older professors, the wizard who saved the world seemed to have neglected his outfit, more common. Sinistra Aurora, their astronomy teacher, was still wearing a long pointed hat, Slughorn was displaying a shirt testifying his doubtful tastes, striped with green and brown, with leather suspenders on his large shoulders, emphasizing the imposing curve of his paunch, McGonagall, in her headmistress chair, dressed up in green, stone-faced, Hagrid was true to himself, with his new ferret fur collar, Mrs Hooch still seemed so stiff, other professors Kate didn't know and who taught to superior years and, finally, Wolffhart as if eternity itself couldn't alter his straight bearing in his felt coat enhanced by his bright red scarf and his completely closed face under his thick grey hair.  
Yet, all the room's attention was focused on the Sorting Hat, standing on his three-legged stool, who declaimed his song as soon as everyone went silent:

 _Time of respite, time of peace,  
_ _Except for you, students of Hogwarts  
_ _Because this place didn't decrepit,  
_ _It's now time for me to do what's smart...  
_ _Many were those who had passed under my throat,  
_ _And all of them joined the ranks of classes.  
_ _They proved themselves patient and bold  
_ _And for knowledge's sake, always wanted to practise.  
_ _Because with youth, the promise of a future world is forming,  
_ _Everyone has to seize his chance to be part of it.  
_ _This is the adventure of your life's beginning  
_ _And weapons of knowledge will help you through it._

 _So had spoken the four founders,  
_ _Wizards with immortal emblems,  
_ _And their proverbs, of which they're authors,  
_ _Must resound at your ears in those terms:  
_ _Gryffindor praised courage at its best,  
_ _Paragon of bravery and loyalty  
_ _Always use these qualities and assets  
_ _In order to win success and kindness' key.  
_ _Ravenclaw preferred to shine with her spirit,  
_ _Never stopped her spurts of creativity,  
_ _Learn, work, never demerit  
_ _And use intelligence in each activity.  
_ _Hufflepuff was showing humanity,  
_ _A golden heart opened up to beings,  
_ _She never feared an ounce of futility  
_ _And took the fruits of her altruism.  
_ _Above all this, Slytherin preferred cunning  
_ _And shine like a star in the dark.  
_ _To him, ambition wasn't intruding  
_ _In order to make his mark._

 _But remember, dear students:  
_ _Without help, they wouldn't have succeeded,  
_ _Without values, dreams or implements.  
_ _Unity is strength that cannot be defeated  
_ _From the moment you open up to people  
_ _And your knowledge decuple._

The students' applauses ended an entire minute later, as Suzanna shared her feelings with her schoolmates:

'Well… I preferred last year's one! I have the feeling that he's just trying to repeat to us that we're about to work, work, work and that's all that matter anyway!'  
'We have to work, it's normal, we're in a school!' reminded Scarlett, the most serious of the five.

Finishing applauding in a slow, weary way, Maggie bent towards Kate:

'However, he didn't even mention Shatterfly. Do you think it's because he didn't find a rhyme with butterfly?'  
'I think he went mad last year and now he recovered', squeaked the nominee.

Deep inside, Kate had had this small hope that her house would be in the Hat's song, even though in the form of a metaphor. However, it didn't happen: Shatterfly was some madness that existed for an evening, one year earlier.  
Flitwick unrolled the parchment on which was the list of the new students. The first one, Amelia Aberkimbs, was sorted into Ravenclaw. And while the students were passing under the Hat, Kate glanced at the Hufflepuff table, where Eliot was lost in his thoughts, fixed on some inexistent point, without even listening to the ceremony. He was barely reacting when a student was sorted into his house. But she couldn't go to see him and resigned herself to follow the protocol in order to forget her cousin for a few minutes.

'Slytherin!' claimed the Hat when he passed on the head of a boy named Max Mallarck.

After a few ovations from the green and silver ranks, professor Flitwick called:

'Matsuda, Tetsuya.'

A young boy, with Asian features, detached himself from the rank and climbed the stairs with excitement.

'What is a haired lemon doing here?' wondered Maggie, downcast.  
'If I didn't know your special sense of humour, I could think you're a racist!'  
'No but Maggie's right: there's a big, renowned wizarding school in the Far East, the most renowned in the world', added Scarlett who would always feel the need to tell some general knowledge in her speeches.  
'And so, according to you, because he looks like that, he goes there instead of Hogwarts?!' wondered Moira. 'Merlin's pants, I should have asked if there was a wizarding school for dwarves before coming here and stand you all the time!'  
'Shhhh!'

The whispers stopped when the Hat was put on the called Tetsuya Matsuda. There was a long silence; a very long one that lasted a few minutes. Whispers started to rise in the room.

'Oh! Maybe he'll be the last Hatstall of our century!'  
'A Hatstall?' asked Kate.  
'When the Hat doesn't speaks out after five minutes of reflexion, we call the person a Hatstall', enlightened Scarlett. 'It happens very rarely… Less than ten in a hundred years.'  
'And… What does that do?'  
'Nothing', grumbled Maggie. 'Except that I'm hungry… Why do we have to wait?!'  
'Shatterfly!'

The announcement had the effect of a silent bomb. All the students were holding their breaths. Numerous gazes turned towards Kate, whose heart stopped beating. Flooded by emotions and so much attention, she avoided dizziness while she was keeping her eyes fixed on the boy under the Hat. The latter got up, happy as his previous mates, without understanding the fantasy of the situation. It took him a few seconds to realize that no one gave him an ovation and the poor child discomfited on the spot.

'Here we go again…'  
'What's this nonsense?'  
'So it wasn't a joke?'  
'This Hat is completely wrecked!'

Kate folded flat on her chair while rumours started to grow in the Great Hall. The headmistress reacted immediately and got up, straight away, silence regained control.

'Mrs Aurora, can you bring mister Matsuda into the anti-chamber until the end of the repartition?'

The astronomy teacher obeyed and took the Japanese boy in a hidden room behind a painting next to the professors' table.

'Let's resume!'

However, the effect of this new incongruous repartition was in all minds and the elders had a hard time following the rest of the ceremony. The next one, Stella Ness, was sorted into Slytherin.

'So… so that was true?' whispered Kate, curled up on her bench, hoping to hide from the other students who were staring at her with insistence, as if she was about to give them an explanation. 'Shatterfly… exists?'  
'In any case, according to the Hat, it does…' grimaced Scarlett, staring at her friend.  
'You should be happy, Kate!' wanted to comfort her Suzanna, more optimistic. 'You will finally have the place you deserve! You're not alone anymore!'  
'Yes, Suzanna's right!' Maggie went on, more cynical. 'Now there's you and a guy who probably doesn't speak English…'  
'It will be better than hang out with a girl who has no sense of tolerance', retorted Moira to the last girl who spoke.  
'O'Cearb… Cearbhail, Ei… Eibhlin?'

Professor Flitwick's hesitant pronunciation in front of that name, probably Irish, erased for a few moments the doubt in Kate's mind. A frail, red-haired young girl stepped out of the crowd, an embarrassed expression on her face: the professor certainly did mispronounce her name. She settled on the stool and the Charms teacher skilfully put the Hat, which swallowed half of her small head. Until he claimed:

'Shatterfly!'

The doublet disconcerted the assembly, shook by an even greater confusion. The bedlam in the Great Hall was deafening as the professors themselves didn't know how to react otherwise than with surprise. Just like Kate did last year, the young Eibhlin joined her classmate in the anti-chamber and didn't come out. She couldn't react, nor follow the conversations. She would have liked to plug her ears, run away. As if she never started this racket. Why it all didn't go normally? Why wasn't she sorted into another house? Away from all this…  
Maggie's hand grabbed hers in a compassionate gesture, rare from her, and stretched a timid smile on Kate's face, allowing her to listen more serenely to McGonagall's speech, who was as confused as the rest of the assembly.

* * *

What a relief it was for her when she got back to her beloved dormitory, her so comfortable four-poster, on which Sir Sulkington was snoring, lying flatly on his mistress' pillow.

'We're back…' she whispered before she started to unpack.  
'For a year. Again. And far to be the last.'  
'Thanks for reminding me, Moira, I will have to stand you a long time!'  
'If it reassures you, Maggie, I feel exactly the same.'  
'Hardly arrived and already tired', sighed Scarlett with a thin voice, going to her bed. 'You're going to kill me, girls!'

They all got changed for the night and Kate overtook to start the reading of the book she had bought without her mother's knowledge. With the arrival of two new students in Shatterfly, there was no doubt it wasn't a case to take lightly. Perhaps there was a rational explanation for all this. Not forgetting her special gift and the fact that, last year, she managed to enter Morgana McNair's memories. She, besides, congratulated herself for not bumping into her during this first day… She had had enough emotions for tonight.  
Under her cover, Scarlett was reading a novel, while Moira was showing to the two other girls, the spells she had learnt, in theory, during summer.

'Give me your hand', she asked to Maggie.  
'I don't trust you.'  
'It's not dangerous!'  
'I trust you even less.'  
'Come on, Maggie!' begged Suzanna, all riled-up.

Maggie sighed and agreed to give her hand, her palm down towards the floor, to Moira who grabbed it with her small podgy fingers. She pointed her magic wand, under the little reassured look of her roommate, focused and pronounced the spell:

' _Capillus!_ '

Immediately, an abundant brown fur grew on the back of Maggie's hand, her face contracted in a panicked and horrified disgusted expression:

'Ahhh, for a gargoyle's sake, Moira! Take that off! Take that off!'

The girls in the room started to laugh out loud as Maggie had gotten up, jumping everywhere and shaking her arm, like if she was trying to shake off the fleece that had grown on her skin.

'Please, take that off!' was she yelling.

But when she saw that it was only making their laughter double, she stopped, nevertheless still febrile:

'My parents will disinherit me if they learn that they're daughter is a Yeti-to-be! I have financial assets to receive! But you can't understand that! I come from a noble family, with a reputation to hold! And my beautiful soft skin… My beautiful skin…! Since I was born, I distemper myself with ointments and… and… look what it became!'  
'That's okay, Big Foot, come here and I'll fix it!' chuckled Moira with tears in her eyes. ' _Finite._ '

When the ambient elation calmed down, Suzanna added her reflexion, sitting cross-legged near Moira:

'And still, Maggie… you didn't even started puberty! Hair everywhere!'  
'I-I don't want to think about it!'  
'You should! That will happen!'  
'I'm still too young for this!'  
'There's nothing bad in growing up', intervened Scarlett, shrugging her shoulders, without taking her eyes off of her book.  
'But you'll see the difference', Moira kept on, preferring to play with Maggie's fears. 'Hormones, all of that…'  
'Hormoans? What is that?!'  
'They're invisible parasites that makes you fall in love', tried to explain Suzanna, very serious.

Hearing that, Kate and Moira shared a look before bursting out laughing again, under the misunderstanding looks of their roommates. Both of them living in a Muggle environment, some sciences, their friends were compensating with magic or legends, were more of their competences.

'My mum explained to me that it's something in your body that triggers when you grow up and that turns you into an adult', Kate enlightened them, leaving her book in which she wasn't finding anything for the moment.  
'It turns you?' repeated Maggie, paler and paler. 'Just like that? Poof?!'  
'Manner of speaking! For example, for boys, their voices change…'  
'Ha ha! Do you imagine Irwin with a deep voice?!'

Irwin Peakes was their classmate, in Gryffindor too. He was a rather clumsy boy, with a high-pitched voice that made him sound not very serious; he was the laughing stock of other students. A real handicap for him.

'Perhaps! But we'll have to wait! Look, my cousin Eliot, now he's fifteen, his voice has changed a lot!'  
'Oh! By the way! Tell us about your cousin!'  
'Your cousin?' wondered Scarlett, as her auburn eyebrows barely frowned. 'The one we saw in the train…?'  
'Indeed…'

All of them approached Kate's bed to talk about it. Moira sat on it to be at their height, chasing away poor Sir Sulkington who, frustrated, returned clawing Maggie's trunk, his favourite. Since the time, the latter learnt to not worry about it anymore, at least apparently. Kate knew that, deep inside her, Maggie was dreaming about skinning him to make a luxury pillowcase.  
She told them about her month of August, for the least, exhausting. The letter with the green seal, St Mungo's, Eliot's reaction about his parents' death, his readjustment to the real world…

'And… do you know why he woke up?' asked Scarlett, pragmatic.  
'Nobody can explain… But… it was at the same time as the solar eclipse…'  
'Eclipses have particular properties, you should talk about it with Professor Aurora, she could help you', suggested Moira.

They all nodded before Kate resumed:

'I had a dream… when Eliot woke up. I had a dream… that it was exactly happening… That was weird. I was so close… But there was someone. I think it was a woman. She was on Eliot's bed and… I don't remember what she told him…'  
'Do you think it was a premonition?!' wondered Suzanna, impressed.  
'Maybe you're imagining things… You thought you dreamt about Eliot but it wasn't the case.'

Kate nodded, without really knowing what to think. This dream seemed so distant to her. Very vague. And she had it the day she learnt about his awakening, in other words, a few hours after it happened. When the Whispers didn't knew about it yet…

'And… do you think you could manage to read his mind?' whispered Maggie as the other girls started to return to their beds.  
'Read his mind?'  
'You know, like you did with McNair!'

She imitated Kate's gesture, briefly sticking her hand on her friend's forehead, who felt stunned for a second. Kate flickered her eyes before thinking about that possibility.

'But… what could he remember? He was unconscious! And… I don't even know how I did with Morgana!'  
'Yes, but his awakening maybe wasn't a coincidence. Maybe he kept some pieces of what happened. Maybe he's keeping a secret!'  
'I won't go that far…! He's my cousin!'  
'But… I thought you told me he has changed?! Don't you remember what you're saying or…'  
'Yes, he's changed, but everybody would have!' she defended him, sharper. 'What would your reaction be if you lost your parents?'

This assertion gave Maggie a grin, which wasn't quite the reaction Kate was expecting.

'If my parents die, of course I'll be sad, very sad, but in the absolute, I would be freer of my moves, I would have a normal life, except the fact that I would have inherited hundreds of thousands Galleons', she chuckled as she nodded in rhythm with her words. 'It's not very comparable… To tell the truth, I can't really conceive how a relation between a child and his parents should be…'  
'Really?' grimaced Kate.  
'Someday you'll come at my house. You'll see…'

Maggie went back to her bed, her face a bit saddened, causing her friend's heart a twinge. Thinking about her own situation, Kate had to admit she was having a very strong, powerful bond with her parents. The war perhaps helped strengthening it; because now, they had common memories of those painful moments. And as soon as she was sharing a look with her father, they were having this feeling that only them could know what the other was thinking, the feelings between them.

Eliot had no parents anymore.  
Maggie had, but they weren't acting as such.  
Kate could find herself lucky. Very lucky…

When the lights went out, only the stars were gleaming in the cloudy sky and only Sir Sulkington was moving in the darkness before he jumped on Kate's bed, the latter curled up around the item she was holding tightly in her hand: her mother's necklace. Warm and comforting. Like a caress before sleeping. Like a lullaby whispered at her ear. Beating, like a small heart, like her mother's heart when she snuggled against her.  
Yet, when Kate sank into a deep sleep, she couldn't notice that a soft light was coming out from the pendant. Like a stone deep down under water, reflecting the distant sun.


	14. Mister Fawley's manners

Here comes the 4th chapter of this second volume of LMA - Statim Vivus Fierem!

Before starting reading, I'd like to draw your attention about the fact that, from now on, future chapters will come every two weeks (if not three, but really exceptionally!). Indeed, they are becoming longer and longer with time (twice as long for the shortest ones!) and I'm starting a whole new job by the beginning of next month. So I will have less time and more words to translate. I hope you will understand and still enjoy the story anyway! Even if it means waiting a bit longer.

Don't worry, I don't intend to stop translating. I love translation and this story too much!

Enjoy!

* * *

4\. Mister Fawley's manners.

This Thursday morning, her first day of class for this second year at Hogwarts, Kate passed it in the castle's dungeons. It maybe was the first place that didn't miss her. The sickly smells, coupled with the smothering heat originating from the multiple cauldrons inlayed in every table, had not yet finished to have her grimace. She wasn't surprised now to see that Slughorn was looking more and more like a worm in its apple, his greasy greenish pale skin gleaming under the torches' flames, the only source of light. His grimace, he expected to be good-humoured, rendered him even more repulsive.

'Welcome to your first classes of second year, dear students', he announced as he pulled on his thick suspenders, balancing forward. 'I hope you spent great holidays and you all managed to provide yourself your new schoolbook for this year, as it was notified on your purchase list...!'

In an instinctive gesture, everyone put a hand on their book, or moved it closer, without saying a word.

'Even you, Miss Simmons?' he asked as he passed by Suzanna, who already had built herself quite a reputation.

The latter gave him a tight-lipped smile as she took her book from her bag. A whisper grabbed Kate's attention.

'She may have her book today, but I'm sure she forgot her brain in her dormitory...!'

Her heart eaten by a growing anger, Kate turned around on her bench and met Morgana McNair's sharp gaze. Her silent wrath avoided her to be frozen by it. The two girls shared, in this new bond of hate, close memories, still wide open. If she had wanted to, Kate would have rushed to denounce Morgana after her attempt last year and that kind of provocation, targeting her dearest friends, was arousing this desire. A sardonic smile, emphasising her success, stretched the young Slytherin's lips, who suddenly transitioned from friend to enemy. Maggie, who noticed that her neighbour was turning her back to the desk, observed the exchange of sore looks and grabbed Kate's shoulders to force her to turn back and ignore Morgana.

'Don't pay attention to her...' she whispered. 'She didn't even have the chance to get a brain when she was born.'

They sniggered in silence, bent over their desks, while Slughorn was explaining what today's potion would be: a Swelling Solution. They all had at their disposal a cauldron and the necessary ingredients. From time to time, Kate didn't miss to check if she was doing the same gestures and techniques as Scarlett, who had been automatically indicated as the best student in Potions. But the interest Slughorn gave to her concoction let her think that he was trying a subtle approach:

'If you prepare it correctly, this potion is supposed to turn purple.' he said while she was conscientiously crushing her scurvy grass seeds in her mortar. 'Like the colour your house should be...'  
'Y-yes, professor.'  
'Is that it, purple? I often see you wearing that colour outside classes...'  
'Perhaps, professor. I don't know...! I just... really like purple!'

Slughorn nodded while Kate, embarrassed, tried not to shake as she weighed in her hand the amount of powder she would put in her cauldron.

'And so... do you have any idea about what could have caused this unexpected opening of the house? In your blood, as you said last year.'

He was now taking it seriously...

'I did, professor...'  
'I well remember your father.' he chuckled. 'But your mother... maybe she was one of my former students? I don't remember her. Perhaps you could refresh my memory, Miss Whisper...!'  
'She's a Muggle.'

This assertion transfixed Slughorn and caught the attention of many close students, who were discreetly observing the exchange. Kate very well knew what her teacher was thinking right now: a former Slytherin marrying a Muggle seemed to be an aberration.

'That... These things happen! You know, some of my best students were Muggle-Borns! Like the late mother of your well famous professor, Harry Potter.'

 _These things happen... Like it was sort of a regrettable accident..._ , thought Kate.

'You see, I'd be thrilled to know your theories about Shatterfly, as you are its famous creator by proxy. What do you think? Mind sharing some words around a succulent meal?'

Kate understood very well where Slughorn was going, with his grey eyebrow raised above his insistent pig-like eye: she was now a new guest for the well famous Slug Club. He couldn't miss such a chance. She knew herself, from the moment the Hat claimed above her head, that she would be different and would draw other people's attention. However, if she seemed disturbed, she wasn't displeased, deep inside. The little teenager she was felt the need to be recognised, especially by her professors, it was natural.

'If you want, professor...!'  
'No, Miss Whisper, if _you_ want! I don't want to force you in any way!'  
'Well... it would be a pleasure!'  
'Perfect! I was hoping you'd say that!'

Then he went back to check the other students' preparations while Kate had a hard time processing the new. She was dragged out of her meditation by Maggie's elbow:

'Your potion is boiling over, Miss Celebrity...!'

Panicked, Kate tried to make up her mistake, in vain.

At the end of the exercise, they all had to pour a drop of their preparations on a toad assigned to each one of them. Kate's one belched a large bubble, while Maggie's one only grew one dart on his back, invisible amongst all the others. The toad that had the biggest success was Marvin Ledger's, which inflated and rose up in the air like a helium-filled balloon, until it reached the ceiling in a disturbed "RIBBIT!", under the hilarity of the other students.  
When they got out of the Potions classroom to join the courtyard for a little break, second years found themselves in the middle of a crowd of students, gathered on the grass. People were pushing, messing around, trying to approach.

'What the hell is happening in the giants' world?' grumbled Moira, trying to jump in order to see anything else than uniforms.  
'I don't know, I don't see anything.' deplored Scarlett, who had also rose herself on her tiptoes.

Maggie, the most enterprising of them all, tapped on the shoulder of the student in front of them, apparently a sixth or seventh year, who raised an interrogative eyebrow, surprised.

'Why is everyone gathered here?' asked Maggie.

However, the young platinum blond haired girl didn't answer and stared at Kate, standing still next to her interlocutor, before exclaiming:

'Ah, Whisper, they're looking for you!'  
'M-me?' she said in a hiccup. 'Who are "they"? Professors?'

Nevertheless, she didn't let her time to react; the elder stepped aside and requested her to move forward in the crowd, rolled around like a common bag of feather. Reactions around her were going in front of her puzzled look. Some were trying to be reassuring, others mocking. Finally, she managed to get a glimpse of five wizards and witches, adults from outside the school she guessed, for they weren't wearing uniforms but beautiful coloured robes. They all were interrogating students on the fly. Some had the famous Quick-Quotes Quill, transcribing everything they were hearing.

'And so, you know her well? What kind of childhood has she had? The war, all this?' uttered a witch with long brown hair, wearing glasses and a big orange hat in front of a quite pedant looking Slytherin student.

Kate didn't listen to the answer, too disturbed by the situation. One single name was in all mouths: hers.

'She's here! She's here!'

The exclamation resounded a long time and propagated as everyone turned towards her. For a second, Kate only heard the echoes of her own heart, beating against her ribs, before she was bombarded by the journalists.

'Katelyna Whisper! So nice to meet you!'  
'Would you accept to answer some of our questions?'  
'A picture for the Daily Prophet?'

The flash coming out from the camera dazzled the young girl, who blinked, dizzy, in the middle of the other students' deafening racket.

'How does it feel to be at the origin of one of the Wizarding School's most important reversal in centuries?'  
'Well... I...'  
'Your question is completely ridiculous!' laughed one of the journalists, talking to his colleague with disdain. 'Of course she is not indifferent about it! I would have a more pertinent question for you Miss: did you choose this new house's name yourself?'  
'No, of course not...! It's the Sorting Hat who's decided that...'  
'Did you have the feeling that it was going to be like this, before the repartition? Did you know it was going to happen?'  
'But not at all!'  
'What do you think will happen to Shatterfly?'  
'Did you find dormitories?'  
'How can you explain the fact that two students, moreover foreigners, joined Shatterfly yesterday?'

Questions were crowding in Kate's head, overwhelmed with noise and emotions. Firstly, she looked around for support and help; a quiet plea, praying for someone to catch it. Panic took control of her body: she made a U-turn and tried to run away, tears coming up. However, the journalists didn't let go:

'Did you think about becoming prefect right from second year? For three students?'  
'Do you have the intention to take actions for Shatterfly to be recognised by the Ministry of Magic?'

Shook in all directions, Kate closed her eyes, gnashed her teeth and prayed for all this to end, clenching her fists. Her legs were shaking, threatening to break under her own weight and the many looks on her. She wanted to scream, but she was scared. She wanted to cry, but she was ashamed.

'Leave her alone!'

A large arm intervened and pushed little Kate in a silhouette's shadow. And with a belligerent look, Eliot faced the five journalists, thirsty for questions, while the students fell silent on the same second. The adults observed for a moment the young man with surprise and deep contempt for this interruption. Kate shivered, entrenched behind her cousin who wasn't blinking.

'You're obstructing the media coverage, young man!' took offense the witch with the orange hat, her lips pinched. 'How dare you allow yourself to...'  
'And you?! How dare you allow yourself to harass Kate in the middle of the school?!'  
'You know her?' asked the oldest of the five, bending towards him, squinting.  
'Kate is my cousin,' he claimed, furious, shaking is light-brown locks in front of his eyes, 'and no one touches her or asks her stupid questions as long as I'm here! Understood?'

However, the journalists' reaction was opposite to what he was expecting:

'You're cousins? On her father's or her mother's side?'  
'Did you always live close to each other?'  
'Have you ever thought you could have been the one who opened the fifth house before her, as you share a part of the same origins?'

And as Kate saw Eliot's fists clench and the beating veins at the surface of his skin, another student intervened. Clive Ollivander forced his way through the crowd in order to grab his friend's shoulder. He was giving a hint of a forced, non reassured smile, flapping his hands in a way that hoped to impose silence.

'That's okay, it will be enough for today, ladies and gentlemen! I'm sure you have all you need to write a good article for now.'

Then he discreetly addressed to Eliot a sharp whisper:

'Now calm down and don't go along with their game!'

The friendly gaze he gave Kate over his glasses calmed her shakings as she stayed hidden behind Eliot.

'Not even close!' settled a witch, embittered. 'The world deserves to know who Katelyna Whisper is and why Shatterfly has been opened! The new will spread all across the country!'  
'Yes, of course, I understand that, but you shouldn't exhaust your subject on the first day, it would be very regrettable for your media.' tried to negotiate Clive, smart when it came to speeches, even though he was uncomfortable to debate like this in front of journalists, under hundreds of searching looks.

He grabbed Eliot's shoulders, his palms on his shoulder blades, and tried to drag him away with Kate from the five wizards' hold. However, the young Hufflepuff remained transfixed by fury, his sore look fixed on them.

'Give us at least one or two answers, Miss Whisper!' attempted the youngest, trying to take a glimpse of Kate's face, hidden in Eliot's shadow. 'A few words and that will be all...! After all that's true, we'll surely have occasions to talk again, but for today...'

A brusque move interrupted him as Eliot grabbed his collar threateningly, under the students' alarmed looks and muffled screams.

'I said "no stupid questions"!' he whispered between his teeth, close to the face of the reporter who was terrified by this sudden outburst.  
'Eliot, stop!' screamed Kate, frightened, while pulling on her cousin's pullover.  
'Mate, that's okay, let go of him now.' Clive tried to reason him, nervous. 'He won't hurt her, he understood...'  
'I don't think so... Maybe he will understand better this way...!'

Straight after saying that, he took out his wand and pushed it between the quivering reliefs of the terrified journalist's throat, while his colleagues stepped back, horrified by the turn of events.

'No, don't screw up, Eliot!' begged Clive, thinking about taking his wand from him to avoid any accident. 'It's not the moment!'  
'Entfernen Sie sich!'

Wolffhart's booming voice resounded, so loud; everyone jumped and turned towards him. Students didn't have to be asked twice to step aside and let him through to the centre of the crowd, moving forward in quick and discreet steps, like a black ghost sliding on the grass. Kate would always feel that mix of intimidation and fascination each time she laid her eyes upon her Transfiguration teacher's waxen face. Journalists themselves stayed stone-faced in front of that theatrical apparition that shut every person gathered here up; only the end of summer wind was whistling between branches.

'I advise you to let go of that incompetent right now before your hands get dirty, jung Mann', he said to Eliot who obeyed after one last hateful gaze towards the columnist.

Then, Wolffhart spoke to Kate, who gained some confidence as she straightened up, not fearing the unwelcomed visitors when with her teacher, who adjusted his red scarf:

'Fräulein Whisper, follow me, bitte...'

They all watched them leave, while Kate followed in small, quick and disorganised steps, the long felt coat of Wolffhart, who took the path to the corridors. A tremendous relief shook off Kate's panic, even though she regretted for a moment to have left her friends and cousin, who would certainly found themselves in the grip of the journalists without her... Her professor didn't say one single word as they entered a small, white stoned room that Kate didn't know, with benches and tables piled up to be forgotten. Everything was just chaos and dust, as if this room never was anything else than an abandoned shed in which were stored all furniture since the Middle-Ages.

'Why did you bring me here, professor?' shook Kate as she studied her environment.

The latter who had just closed the door adopted however a completely different voice, softer. A young man's voice that didn't belong to him...:

'Actually, Miss Whisper, I am not your teacher...'

The respectable German's chalky face faded in a curl of smoke and his long black coat was replaced, in a sudden wind, by an elegant soft brown suit. The man standing in front of her wasn't even thirty. A beige sophisticated hat, just like the after-war Muggle ones, was standing on his black curly hair. He had designer stubble, stain of carelessness in the middle of this fine picture giving him a more attractive look, and a beautiful emerald green satin tie.

Worried by such metamorphosis, Kate stood still, pale, as the other man addressed an amused smile to her, which didn't seem to reassure her.

'I don't want you any harm, Miss Whisper.'  
'W-who are you?'  
'How careless of me, I forgot to introduce myself...!' he apologised.

All at the same time, he moved forward and took off his hat, before he grabbed Kate's little hand on the fly and brushed his lips against it in a bow. This stranger's aristocratic manners were perturbed her as well as charmed her...

'My name is Orpheus Fawley, but call me as you want.'

He nodded before letting go of the little girl's febrile hand, who observed him sit on one of the many broken benches, in front of a ripped open table.

'Please, have a seat in front of me!' he invited her with a courteous gesture, after he put his hat in front of him.

On her guards, Kate joined him, careful, and sat in slow motion, sliding on the wood without taking her eyes off of the stranger, very affected.

'Are you... a journalist, too?'  
'Indeed,' he confirmed, his brown eyes sparkling over his large smile, 'but comparing with those gossiping cockroaches would be a regrettable mistake... I'm not one of their kinds...'  
'What do you mean? Do you think it's... healthier to bait a young girl and isolate her in an abandoned room...?'  
'Hmmm, indeed, I grant you that, my methods are not performed under optimal conditions, nevertheless, I bet I would have proceeded otherwise if I had a choice.'

Mister Fawley had the golden word and easy link. A power that collared his interlocutor, forced to listen to him until the end and to appreciate the smiles he gave between two sentences. He joined his two hands on the table, looking deep into Kate's eyes, distraught.

'My principles and my purposes differ from theirs. While they are looking for a scoop, I unearth authenticity. That's what creates the attraction to the reader; the fact that they feel close to the people they meet in the course of an article, because they see themselves in them. A long term task. Researches. Out of the question to dash off the job just to make my superior happy... No. To praise rightness is an exercise in style that few understand the impact of the art.'

He gave a slight chuckle, as Kate didn't blink, straight on her wobbly seat.

'I've had the occasion to work with celebrities. Talented wizards and witches. Icons of our world. To study sociological behaviours, during war. Facts that force us to see the world on a different point of view, to take interest in the depth of things, not superficiality just like those fools manhandling you back then in the courtyard. And your case, Miss Whisper, is for me one of the best opportunities in my career. To dig up one of this school's greatest mysteries, which everybody knows under a charming student's little face...'

Kate couldn't help but blush as Fawley kept on:

'I lost interest a long time ago to the Potter phenomenon. Too much media coverage. Too Manichean, too, too... Excess is the privilege of deception. While you are a blooming flower. Nothing was predestining you for this event that has, without any doubts, changed the course of your life... And that's what I'm interested in: your route and your thoughts.'

He got up and clapped his hands before opening them widely.

'What do you think, Miss Whisper? You would be my voice and I, your quill...'  
'Well, I mean... I... I don't know you... I don't know if I'm allowed, or even if I want, to share... private... facts...!' she stammered  
'Be reassured, I'm not planning on beginning my investigations today... I'll give you all the time you need. Under no circumstances will I force you...'

The idea of being followed by a reporter, who seemed, at first sight, talented and full of resources, didn't push her back. At twelve years old, Kate was already in position to claim that she had her own personal biographer.

'I'll accept... if you answer my questions.' she said more self-assured.  
'Of course, with pleasure. It's important for a journalist to be asked some questions to which he can ask back...!'  
'How did you do...?'  
'About what, please?'  
'Y-you... took the shape of my professor! You talked German, just like him! H-how did you do that?!'

Fawley's performance would have, indeed, stunned more than one person.

'Very important researches, coupled with a natural talent for metamorphosis, Miss. Some journalists adopt animal forms to sneak and glean some information; I don't stoop to that kind of insanity...'  
'You can turn without using Polyjuice?'  
'Hmmm, I see you're very gifted for your age, you possess some knowledge that exceeds however your level!'

The multiple successive compliments constantly flattered little Kate, who appreciated more and more this man by the name of Orpheus Fawley.

'I consent that it may have surprised you. I am what people call in the common language, a Metamorphmagus. A natural gift that passes on in my lineage... I can change my appearance at will. And it goes without saying that this talent turns out to be very useful in my profession. But it's rather more efficient with some knowledge of the person of whom we take the shape.'  
'You know professor Wolffhart?'  
'I've never had the occasion to talk to him, but I made some researches about him in order to approach you. That is, besides, what caused my delay with regard to my colleagues who bombarded you. Why him, I don't know, I could have chosen any of your teachers, but he appeared to me as a good choice for researches. As well as I did for you.'  
'And... what did you find about me?' she asked, curious, as she waddled on her chair, her hand between her thighs.  
'Very few things, as a matter of fact, you're still too young. However, I've had the occasion to learn more about your relatives... Among other things, about your father, whose house I shared at Hogwarts, and your cousin, Eliot, who spent a long time in St Mungo's after the war...'

If Kate was prying when it came to her, the fact that Fawley interfered with her own family made her feel uncomfortable. She grabbed one of her brown curls, with which she fiddled nervously.

'Was it Eliot who stood up for you earlier, while those cockroaches were bothering you?'

With a brief grin, Kate nodded.

'He's a brave boy.' said Fawley. 'It goes without saying that he cares about you...'  
'We're family, and in a family you always take care of each other... Seems natural for me. It's normal.'  
'And I hope you are aware that you are very lucky, Miss Whisper. Some families had torn apart during war. Brothers giving each other up, cousins killing each other for the sake of an ideal, fathers abandoning their children to follow the steps of a Dark Lord... Also, I deeply admire your family principles... A lot of people should learn from your morals.'

After a short silence, punctuated by Fawley's unchanging smile, the latter pulled his watch out of his beige jacket's pocket and opened it.

'Ten past thirty four... By the way, shouldn't you be in classes?! Oh, my apologies if this is the case, I got carried away by my journalistic zeal...'  
'Oh, no, no, according to my schedule, I don't have classes between ten and noon on Thursdays this year.' she assured him after a brief moment of uncertain panic.  
'Splendid... so I can explain what I expect from you.'

Saying this, Fawley rummaged about in one of the inside pockets of his jacket and pulled a roll of parchment out.

'Now you're designated as a future target for the media, I'd like to be at your disposal to retranscribe any information about you, whether public or more private. You're still young and inexperienced, but soon, people will want to know your life. Because other people's lives fascinate. They dream about adventures and mysteries, which you will give to them, just by saying your feelings and the circumstances you will encounter. To be more concise, Miss Whisper, you give me all the information you want about you, whatever the moment, whatever the content, about what you would like to tell to the world, what comes to your mind. And I'll take care of embellishing everything, diffusing it, if needed...'

The too tempting offer was hiding something. Kate suspected it very quickly, mistrustful:

'There are conditions, I presume?'  
'You presume well. You shall not, in any case, transmit this information to any journalistic entity, except me.'  
'In main headlines, you want exclusivity. I thought you weren't interested in that? That you were leaving it to the cockroaches?'

Kate, more serene in front of Fawley, was testing his limits, his flaws, admitting that, even though the man seemed very nice, he was hiding some of his intentions, closer to his unscrupulous journalist's nature...

'I was talking about scoop,' he qualified with a grimace as he noticed Kate's growing trickery, 'we're talking here about long term in order to avoid any unfortunate doubloon that could play tricks on you. You know, if I am a paragon of truth, honest defender of wizards' rights regarding authenticity of transpositions, some of my colleagues don't care about that kind of ethic, as long as they sell their papers. And I think you would regret to find yourself with two versions of the same story about you...!'

Finishing his argument, Fawley unrolled in front of her a huge contract that Kate looked over with wide eyes. At the bottom of it was the emplacement for her signature. With a new pleasant smile, Orpheus Fawley snapped his fingers and a big peacock feather appeared in his hand, which he held out to the little girl.

'Your first autograph and our deal will be settled. You won't be harassed by those parasites anymore and you will have the insurance of the truthfulness of the information about you.'

Shuddering, a drop of ink threatening to fall off the end of the quill, Kate was thinking. Her eyes met, for a moment, Fawley's barely insistent ones, bending forward in order to keep his gaze at the same height as the little girl's.

'I would have some conditions too.' she declared.  
'What an idea...!' he said surprised, rubbing his fingers against his chin rendered rough by his beard. 'Say it, I'd be curious to know what you want to submit.'  
'You told me you make a lot of researches about people...'  
'Indeed. And my sources are reliable and complete.'  
'If I asked you to... would you give me information? About people in particular? Anyone?'  
'You would like to spy on someone in particular?!' he doubled his amused exclamation.  
'Not like right now!' she stammered. 'B-but... maybe. If someday I need to know something in particular, about someone. Could you give me this information?'

Fawley pinched his lips and sighed, revealing his reflexion and dilemma.

'According to the codes and current laws, I'm not in the position to provide you such things.'  
'According to the codes, the laws and Hogwarts' current rules here, someone stranger to the school isn't in the position to demand anything from a twelve year old student whom he pulled alone in an abandoned room to make her sign contracts.'

A smile, more amused and embarrassed than the previous ones, stretched on her interlocutor's lips.

'You are smart, Miss Whisper. That is a quality I appreciate... Good. So be it. If someday you have questions about someone, you just send me an owl, to the same address to which you will send your confessions, and I will try to make pertinent researches for you.'

He looked at the contract. He already seemed more nervous...

'Just make it quick, the ink is drying and it scrapes the parchment, there's nothing more unpleasant...'

After one last moment of reflexion, which Kate deliberately prolonged, she gave a brief smile, put the quill on the table and got up, in front of Fawley's disconcerted look, before she threw her schoolbag over her shoulder. But she spoke up before he could protest:

'I'm still underage. I'm not allowed to sign an official document. I need a parental consent. If you want your articles and your authentic exclusivity so badly, talk to my father. And try to convince him as well as you did with me...! However, be careful...! He's very skilful with a Quidditch bat in his hands!'

Delighted with her last reply, Kate scampered along towards the huge storeroom's exit, leaving a rather astounded Fawley.

* * *

Shortly before the clock rang noon, Kate joined the Great Hall, hoping to find her friends. However, none of them were here. Not even Terry or Eliot. Moving forward in the main alley, Kate nevertheless saw a little girl, sitting at the end of the Slytherins table: Eibhlin O'Cearbhail, the first year sorted into Shatterfly, to the general surprise. Given her green tie, Kate deduced that her professors assigned her to the house of ill repute. The young girl's sprinkled with freckles nose was almost stuck on the letter she was reading when Kate approached her.

'Can I sit here?' she asked, pointing out the seat in front of her.

The young Eibhlin rose up her chin and watched the newcomer from head to toe with her slightly translucent brown eyes.

'Is an authorization needed for someone who does not belong to the house to sit at the Slyterins table?' she wondered, speaking fast as she shrugged her shoulders, revealing her rather strong Irish accent.  
'Not as far as I know...!'  
'So... why are ya askin me?'  
'I don't want to bother you...'  
'Ya would have bothered me less by sittin directly without askin. But, aye, c'mere.'

With a shy smile, Kate slid on the bench, putting her bag on her laps while Eibhlin was still staring at her intensely.

'I'm Kate Whisper,' she introduced herself, 'I...'  
'Oh? So that's ya?' she got interested, giving a hint of her first smile as she pronounced those words with her natural deep voice. 'The headmistress told me after the ceremony of the Hat. Yer the first sorted into Shatterfly?'  
'That's exact! I came here to... chat a little. To know you. If we were both sorted into the same house, there might be a reason...!'

Alternating embarrassed smiles and changes in position, Kate, afraid to sound clumsy, spoke:

'So... you're from Ireland?'  
'Aye!' she exclaimed with a radiant face, hearing the name of her country. 'The most beautiful country in the world!'  
'I presume there's no witchcraft and wizardry school over there...'  
'All Oirish attend Hogwarts!' she said like evidence with wide eyes and a thinner high-pitched voice.  
'Oh? That's... I mean, they're not as noticeable as you are!' mumbled Kate.  
'Yer talkin about me accent? And me name?'

 _To tell the truth... you represent the Irish cliché on your own...!_ thought Kate in a half smile.

'Em. Maybe. I come from North-West Oireland, from Donegal, there are not much wizards here. Me dad is not a wizard himself. Are both your parents wizards too?'  
'My mother is a Muggle, just like your father,' she answered peacefully. 'And... why did the professors send you to Slytherin, Eibh...'

Stumbling over the particular pronunciation of her name, the little girl corrected her:

'If this is too complicated, ya can think of the name Evelyn, it is almost pronounced the same.'  
'Eibh... Eibhlin?'  
'Almost that.'  
'And about Slytherin?'  
'Aye, teachers took us apart yesterday, with the other lad. The Asian. They started to talk between them and, finally, they asked us to choose a house ourselves...'

Kate opened wide eyes; if she had had the chance to choose last year. But Gryffindor welcomed her because of its low numbers. She caught herself being jealous of Eibhlin's privilege.

'And so... why Slytherin? You know their reputation, don't you?'  
'Their colour is green. It's the colour of Oireland.'  
'Oh. Of course, it's a good argument.'

Then, the young Eibhlin shrugged her shoulders, beating her long eyelashes on her chestnut irises.

'I don't pay attention to what is said about me house now. There was no reason to if the Hat didn't sort me into Slytherin.'  
'The most important is that you feel good...! I hope some of your housemates won't give you any trouble.'  
'Why? They should?'

Kate preferred to play it honest:

'I mean... I've had problems with some Slytherin girls last year... I hope they won't shift on you just to avenge themselves, given that you're in Shatterfly too...!'

A short moment, her face frozen in indifference, the young Eibhlin stared at her interlocutor before raising a single eyebrow. Terry might have found quite a rival here...!

'I do not understand people's logic sometimes.'  
'It happens...!' chuckled Kate in front of the neutral reaction of the new student, who seemed to despair of human kind and its insane behaviours. 'By the way, speaking of illogical persons... did the journalists come to see you?'  
'Yer talkin about the people outside who were askin a lot of question about Shatterfly and who talk faster than meself? Em. After talkin to them durin five minutes in Oirish, they grew tired of it. And they left me alone.'

As she was talking, Eibhlin seemed to lose interest in Kate, observing her environment, or glancing at her letter, from time to time. The oldest found here the natural attitude of a, perhaps, not very sociable girl who took pleasure in solitude more than verbosities of children of her age. She reminded her of little Hygie, except she wasn't as mute.

'Good. I'm glad to know that, so... I... I will leave you alone too, then.'  
'Aye.'  
'I'm glad we talked.' said Kate as she nodded and left her bench in a slight jump. 'If you need... don't hesitate to come and see me. I'm in Gryffindor. If you don't find me, spot the tiny girl or the blonde one who always screams, they should lead you to me...!'

As soon as she left Eibhlin, Kate met Morgana's steely eyes at the other end of the table. They both stared at each other for a while, mingling their respective feelings coming out from their grey eyes, like threatening and unavowed denials of their endless dispute. Until the young Whisper moved forward to join her roommates at the table placed under the lion emblem, a silent wrath buried deep down in her heart. Without even waiting for all the girls to be here, Maggie had already shoved her first bite of sprinkled with parsley potatoes into her mouth, chewing them cheerfully in front of Scarlett's nearly disgusted look, appalled by such lack of manners.

'I didn't know your parents locked you up in a cellar the whole summer without even giving you food.' joked Moira. 'They preserve you from their fortune and raise you the hard way, under your rich appearance? That explains why you look like a pug...'  
'If I were a nasty girl, I probably would retort that I'm feasting on the peasants' food, you lawn-grazer...' mocked Maggie.

Afterwards, she turned and bent towards Suzanna, looking questioningly:

'By the way, what is a pug?'  
'I think it's a Muggle item allowing you to fill your bath.'  
'No, that's a plug.' corrected Moira, who ignored Maggie's last outrageous remark. 'A pug is a tiny ugly dog.'  
'So, you're trying to fob the model on which you were conceived off on me?'  
'Someday, I will make you eat your feet, Maggie.'  
'You're too small to reach my mouth.'  
'Cut in two, I wouldn't be so sure.'  
'That still makes me taller than you.'

Kate took place in the middle of this scene, meeting Scarlett's desperate look, silently begging her to stop this quarrel. However the altercation, which wasn't something unusual, dried up by itself, until Maggie, still voraciously devouring her meal, held out a letter to Kate who just sat next to her.

'There, it's for you.'  
'For me?'  
'Yeah. Wolffhart told me to give it to you. Apparently, you forgot it after your... face-to-face with him!'

Maggie's look meant to be mocking; nevertheless, Kate didn't play her game and grabbed the envelope without saying a word in a nimble gesture. She suspected the message wasn't from her teacher and her feeling was immediately confirmed as soon as she opened the letter:

 _"_ _Miss Whisper,_

 _It is my duty to present you, with the most honourable intentions, sincere apologies following the misunderstanding that seemed to have established itself without our knowledge after our meeting. It is very understandable that you felt scoffed by my request; nevertheless, I wager that the actions that I take about you are only in your good interest. Also, even though you don't accept to support me in this project, I've had at least the occasion to meet you and share some very interesting words in your company. Along the suggested lines above, I wish you all the best for the future and the accomplishment of your dreams and projects, especially about Shatterfly. On the other hand, if by the most fortunate of luck, it's conceivable that you reverse your decision, don't hesitate to send me an owl to the following address:_

 _Mister Fawley Orpheus  
_ _21 Brook Street, 3_ _rd_ _floor  
_ _LONDON_

 _Whether it's to talk about what burdens you, to discuss about your projects, to question me about people whose secrets you'd like to discover or even to give me some Howlers, use my address as it suits you so long as you find your own interest. In return, I count on you to preserve the confidentiality of this highly personal information._

 _Fully intending to see you again, I give you, awaiting our next meeting, my best regards."_

At the bottom of the letter, the letters were dancing gracefully to form the name of the writer, the O even greeting the reader by waving his hat, before putting it back on its top. And Kate couldn't help but give a slight smile, hidden at the corner of her lips. Adults thought they could seize her, but they were wrong; without even knowing it, it was her who was having now a full hold on them...


	15. Ollivander's legacy

Aaaaaaand... that's about the fastest I can do from now on. Yet, I'm not really late.

This chapter is reaaaaaaaally long! I hope you'll enjoy it. I remember when I first read it, I did quite a lot.  
I also hope I didn't make any mistake, I didn't have time to re read it. Feel free to tell me if you see any mistake, I'll fix it asap!

Enjoy!

* * *

5\. Ollivander's legacy.

Mid-September dawn sun coated the objects in the girls' dormitory. It was a ray of light that, titillating her nose, woke up Kate, who grumbled as she turned in her sheets. At her feet, Sir Sulkington, who had felt the bed moving, stretched and yawned, before he climbed on the curled up body of his mistress, who was reluctant to greet him with joy:

'Hmmm, let me sleep, Sir Sulkington.' she grumbled as she buried her head under the sheets.

Yet, the cat gave a small nagging meow; the unpleasant and perfectly deliberate kind. Once she got edgy, Kate grabbed her pillow and blindly threw it on the pet, who jumped off the bed before he expressed his dissatisfaction of being treated like this by hissing on the parquet, swelling his white fleece. However, it was too late: Kate dragged herself out of bed before she noticed none of her roommates were there. She started to panic. She nervously grabbed her wand and pronounced the basic spell that displayed the hour in smoky numbers: 8:32 am. However, Kate's spell, far less efficient than normal, blew huge opaque smoke that fumed her very quickly. She suffocated as she brewed the air:

'Merlin's s... I'm late!'

Classes started at 9am sharp, she barely had time to go down to the Great Hall to consume her breakfast in record time, before joining Miss O'Joovens' classes, their theoretical Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

She dressed up at maximum speed, went out of the dormitory, still raggedy, her bag on her shoulder, without noticing she was locking her pet up. It was a matter of time before he would let her know, especially as she left her luggage open at the foot of her four-poster bed...

In the Great Hall, a lot of students were still finishing their morning collation and Kate found the four girls, gathered around a parchment. Next to them, a tiny owl was standing stoic, a letter hung on its foot. Littleclaws, who immediately recognised her master's daughter, flew towards her and landed on her shoulder, holding out a letter.

'Your owl is stupid!' ranted Maggie when Kate took place next to her. 'It scratched me when I tried to take the letter in order to give it to you later.'  
'Once again, Maggie, it's a Northern Saw-Whet Owl, not just an owl,' tempered Scarlett, the bearing straight.  
'It's well-bred, anyway!' chuckled Moira without raising her nose from the document at the centre of the table, standing up on the bench. 'You should also teach it to peck at people's noses, Maggie would be furious to find herself disfigured by an animal that's twenty times smaller than she is.'  
'We all know about your heightened inferiority complex and the need to talk about you in terms that enhance you so little,' retorted Maggie, 'but you don't have to put it in the middle of the conversation all the time!'  
'Littleclaws is very clever.' explained Kate as she untied the letter. 'She only obeys to my father and to me, occasionally... She's very loyal. And she recognises people.'

The envelope, with her name on it likely written by her father yet contained two letters; one for her and one for Eliot.

 _"_ _Hey sweet pea,_

 _I hope everything's going well at Hogwarts these days. I read an article about you, the other day. It was on the front page of the Daily Prophet. You probably saw it. Since then, your mother and I had some visits from numerous idiots who thought it was an excellent idea to harass us. They understood I wasn't the cooperative kind of guy only after I burned the hat of one of them. At least, for now, we have peace. But I think that you'll soon see come out an article about the unacceptable behaviour of the prodigy-who-opened-Shatterfly's father...! The beginning of celebrity, kiddo! The world will finally appreciate me at my true value!  
_ _Anyway, if you have any trouble with journalists, tell me and I'll take care of it. Alright? After all, St Mungo's healers have an excellent facial reconstruction department... you have to take advantage of that!  
_ _There's a letter for Eliot. As Littleclaws doesn't well know him, I thought it was wiser to get it through you. I hope he's fine and you show concern for him. But I trust you; I know you've always been close to him, so that shouldn't be a problem. If there is any, you send me an owl asap.  
_ _Except for the journalists, everything's fine at home. I have a lot of work for the moment, because of Ashwinders' invasion that burned an entire block in a town not far from Carlton. But I made amends to your mother for my frequent absences by preparing her Magic Burgers last night. Even though she denies it, I know she loves it! I'm the king of Magic Burgers after all!  
_ _I'll try and send you letters every ten days, like last year. If I remember it._

 _Loads of kisses my sweet pea!_

 _World's best dad."_

The message was followed by a short note from Grace:

 _"_ _Sweetheart,_

 _I saw the reporters caused you harm. Nevertheless you hung on and you didn't let them get to you. I'm proud of you, sweetheart, you're strong. Take care of you and be careful. Some people want to take advantage of others, so stay safe.  
_ _Your father prepared me Magic Burgers the other day. Of course, they're good, but I think he still doesn't quite understand how confusing it can be for a Muggle to eat a hamburger with magic sesame seeds that jump on the bread like fleas to write messages on it... I even got a bit sick, even though it was delicious...!  
_ _I hope classes still are interesting. I can't wait to hear about it!  
_ _I think about you a lot, say hello to Eliot for me._

 _I love you._

 _Mum."_

A slight smile on her lips, Kate folded the letter, which she stuck in her bag, while the other Gryffindor girls were putting away all the parchments scattered on the table.

'What are you doing?' she asked, interested.

However, her question provoked a grimace on her friends' faces.

'A project...'  
'Oh? What is it?'

All four consulted each other with a glance before Scarlett spoke, bending her shoulders on which her long straight red hair fell.

'We're thinking about... setting up a journal. For the school.'  
'That's awesome!' Kate got enthused. 'How did you have this idea?'  
'We all have been a bit... shocked by the journalists' behaviours the other day.' explained Moira.  
'And even before that, it was common to see reporters writing rubbish about people. Harry Potter could tell more than anyone! We thought it was so unfair. For you and the readers in general. Suzanna took a picture when the journalists got their hands on you. We'd like to show the "behind the scene" of what happened. Tell the truth.'

With a mixed feeling of interest and indignation, Kate long sighed, under the four girls' frozen gazes.

'Basically... you want to become like them?'  
'No, no, no! Precisely!' objected Suzanna. 'And we'd like the students to know about what happens in Hogwarts. That won't be extraordinary things! It will go from simple information about classes to big gossips...'

For a little moment, Kate thought as she stared at each one of them. Besides, she was surprised to see Scarlett herself, a stickler to the rules and principles of confidentiality, be part of the group that had had this idea. After all, the experience could be funny and enriching, as long as it didn't cause any problem...

'Alright! And... can I be part of it too? Write articles?'

Once again, the girls consulted each other silently, a bit more embarrassed.

'We're planning on launching the first edition with an investigation on you.' revealed Maggie. 'What would people think if they see that you participated to your own interview? It's bias...'  
'Roughly... you exclude me from the project?'

Stoical, Kate reviewed them as they all avoided her gaze.

'Good, I see.'

Considering she had nothing to do anymore with them for the moment, Kate got up, took her bag and dismissed Littleclaws who flew away.

'But, don't be upset! Stay with us!' Moira tried to keep her.  
'Next time you don't want me, at least bother to wake me up.' she retorted as an answer.  
'We knew you were tired; you worked on your Transfiguration homework all evening, yesterday!' Maggie reasoned her.  
'It's okay, I got it...'

On these words, Kate walked away from the Gryffindors table, and dumped her friends, embarrassed by the situation, who followed her with their eyes until the Hufflepuffs table. Alone, Eliot was reading an old tatty book, his pumpkin juice glass within reach. Kate's greetings diverted him from it a short moment:

'Hi Eliot! How are you?'  
'Like a Monday morning.' he grumbled as he returned to his reading.

Kate pursed her lips before she took Phil's letter addressed to her cousin out of her bag and held it out to him.

'There, it's for you.' she smiled, pleasant.  
'Oh... thanks.'

He looked at it for a moment and put it next to him, without opening it. Then, he got back to his book, almost ignoring his cousin in front of him, who took advantage to pinch a bun in the nearby silver basket.

'You seem completely absorbed in your book...' she noted after she had a bite in it. 'What does it talk about? Is it for school?'  
'It's about creatures in Asia. It's very interesting.'  
'You've always been interested in monsters, huh?'

As far as her memories go, Kate remembered Eliot's fascination for all the small, and bigger, creatures in the magical world. Phil's stories about his job never stopped fascinating him.

'They aren't all monsters.' he qualified in a weary sigh. 'Some are peaceful.'  
'And... would you like to make this your living?'  
'Becoming a cryptozoologist?'

Immediately, Eliot rose up his chin and gave, to her cousin's greatest shock, a slight smile at the corner of his shaking lips.

'I'd like it a lot...' he affirmed as he nodded. 'To study every creature of this world, tell people that they're not all hideous and mean; that they shouldn't be feared... There, hold on...'

Eliot took out another book from his bag, more damaged than the first one. Small feathers, by way of bookmarks, helped him find the page he was looking for. Then, he turned the book open on the table in order to show it to Kate.

'Do you know this creature?'  
'A... Mooncalf? What is it? It looks... ugly!'

The Mooncalf's gaunt morphology, with its light grey skin and its four spindly legs, its head topped with two big protuberant eyes, didn't give it an endearing look. Yet, Eliot kept on in a passionate tone:

'It's a solitary creature that only comes out on full moons. They can rarely be seen... Apparently, meeting one is good luck. I'd dream to...'  
'You think there are some here?' asked his cousin.  
'In the Forbidden Forest? Why not... There are a few in Great Britain, I wouldn't be surprised to see some at Hogwarts! Hey...'

Eliot's prolonged silence, reclaiming Kate's attention made her feel uncomfortable: she felt some risky proposal to come out.

'Let's go search for a Mooncalf on the next full moon!'

Kate was about to decline this suggestion, when she thought that pursuing an activity with Eliot could only be beneficial. She neglected the fact that they would go against the rules by planning this kind of night out; Kate wasn't at her first misdemeanour. The other night, she and Maggie were at the lake for their orange toads exploding ritual, in order to straighten Kate's nerves after the publication of the Daily Prophet that had portrayed her as a shy student, all of it sublimated by a picture on which the little girl was standing stiff as a board, impressed by the situation.

'Well... okay, if you want, we can try...!'  
'Very good. Let me check and organise all this, then!'

For one of the first times since he woke up, Eliot seemed faithful to whom he was before: passionate and prone to share his experience. It stretched a genuine smile on Kate's face, who felt a hand on her shoulder. She made a U-turn as she jumped, surprised, and almost fell back before she realised it was Terry.

'Don't linger too long; we're going to be late...!'  
'Y-yes, I'm coming!'

Giving Eliot briefs goodbyes, Kate got up in a rush, her bun still between her teeth, and caught up her friend who was leaving the Great Hall.

'Is it going well with Eliot in Hufflepuff?'

Right from the beginning of the year, Kate had counted on Terry to keep a discreet eye on her cousin when she couldn't be here, for instance, in his common room. Terry answered with his usual smile:

'I don't speak to him particularly; he's not very talkative...! But he seems fine. And you?'

Terry adopted an expression more conductive to listening.

'With the girls? I saw you left their table a bit sulky... did something happen?'

Kate's face closed, but she explained the situation. Maggie, Moira, Scarlett and Suzanna, excluding her from the project was hurting her feelings, she didn't try to hide it to Terry. However, when she finished her story, arriving on the second floor to join their classroom, the latter shrug his shoulders:

'They want to protect you, that's all.'  
'To protect me?!' repeated Kate, half shocked.  
'Do you imagine if the others see your name in the writers' list of a newspaper that talks about you? How do you think they'll see you? They'll laugh at you, for sure! A lot would take advantage of that! At the end, it would hurt you more...'

Terry wasn't completely wrong, thought Kate as she entered the classroom, redecorated to the current professor's taste, with its heavy red baize curtains, its blood candles, its skeletons and its mystical accessories contributing to the gloomy aspect of this environment. The animated skull kept his place of honour at the top of the ebony cabinet, with its windows exposing stones with magical virtues and ancestral books, and lectured the students who were speaking too much or weren't following Miss O'Joovens lessons. But Kate and Terry very well knew the location where the magical item couldn't detect their conversations: at the second last row, just near the window. They kept quiet only when their professor, small and plump, with her incredibly voluminous hair and her unchanging smile, was walking past them, pretending to be interested in the reading of today's lesson: the Confundus Charm.

'Do you really think it's for my own good?' whispered Kate with a glance towards her roommates.  
'Even if I don't know all of your friends very well, I know Maggie wouldn't do that just to punish you! She may be sharp sometimes, but she really likes you! You're her friend! And she wouldn't hesitate to take your defence...!'

Kate nodded. Maggie had, indeed, risked her life and her place at Hogwarts by intervening last year, saving her friend from the fate Morgana McNair was reserving her. During those long months, she had kept secret what the other girls from Slytherin had been doing to her in order to avoid any trouble to Kate. Even though sometimes she was acting like a pest, spoiled by her parents' financial situation, Maggie remained a faithful friend, even though Kate had doubted about her sincerity, until questioning their friendship.

'Are you coming to the Gryffindors Quidditch trials, this Friday?' she asked, bending over her open book.  
'You bet I will! I wouldn't miss that for anything in the world! Especially as we have a new bet with Maggie!'  
'Again?! You already made one last week... don't you guys ever get tired?!'

Indeed, not long before the week-end, the two friends had made their forecasts about their bananas towers' balance; which one would be the highest before tumbling down. For that, they had requisitioned, during a dinner, almost all the uneaten bananas in the fruits baskets on the tables and had made their high constructions, making the fruits hold altogether with magic. However, the characteristic cough of Wolffhart, who had observed the scene without being noticed with an indifferent look, behind Terry's back, made the latter go to pieces and reduce his bananas tower in caramelised compote because of the failed spell. At the end of this lost challenge was forced by Maggie to adopt a toad, taken in Slughorn's office. The poor, ochre and innocent creature, which seemed to not care about its fate, was named Archibald and slept from now on, in Terry's bedside table's drawer, accordingly arranged, to the great displeasure of his roommates, who quickly grew tired of the cawing as soon as they closed an eye.

'Maggie is persuaded she has her chances to be chosen as a Seeker...' he whispered to Kate after Miss O'Joovens had passed by.  
'Perhaps... I wouldn't be surprised! Knowing her, with all the cash her parents have, she must have been born with a gold broomstick in her mouth!'  
'Yes, but she's only in second year! There are others more talented than her, more experienced... So, I'm sure she can't be chosen. That's a bet I'll quickly win, I feel it...'

Kate didn't want to discourage her friend by contradicting him; Maggie could be quite unpredictable...

* * *

On this beginning of October, the weather was still favourable to sun, as autumn was starting. However, the most sensitive to the cold had already started to wrap themselves up in their scarves when the wind was blowing over the freezing surface of the black lake. Others enjoyed letting themselves carried by the air flow, believing they were flying, like Kate, who was walking on the path to the Quidditch pitch, arms opened, steps unsteady. She appreciated those moments of solitude when she felt in osmosis with Hogwarts' atmosphere; unique sensations took hold in her. Her mind was free of thoughts. Shatterfrly. The Immaterial. Classes. Her past. Morgana. Eliot. All of this was carried away by the wind and disappeared in the distance for a few minutes of intense relief. Of freedom.

On the Quidditch pitch, people in red and gold were stirring everywhere. Permanent players were easily distinguished from the ones who were here to seize their chance; they were agglutinating in chaotic ranks, quiet or, on the contrary, out like a light. Climbing on the bleachers, Kate took place in the middle, alone. She saw in the distance some small groups of students: her Gryffindor friends came to assist to Maggie's try, just like Terry, three ranks above them, with two Hufflepuff friends of his, Branstone and Clifford. Other students from different houses came, out of curiosity: Gareth Gale's fan club didn't miss the chance to unwrap some banners and declaim their love for this young man who won over their hearts. Keeping her distance with the bunch of entrants, Maggie remained impassive, her two hands holding her broomstick and her Quidditch goggles on her blonde bangs. One could guess her fingers tensing up on the wood; a sign of her anxiety. Then, Gareth Gale called for silence and demanded the entrants to introduce themselves, one by one, in front of him, asking for their names and years. Most of them were older, about twenty inches taller than little Maggie, who was the target of mockeries from some of the spectators.

'Can we sit?'

The voice on her right dragged Kate from her contemplation; when she saw it was Griffin Gale who had talked to her, she had a hiccup and opened big wide eyes. His red and gold scarf casually arranged on his shoulder, he smiled at her after his question. Behind him, his friend, Evan McAllister, with his big green eyes, greeted her too. Kate looked around in the bleachers with a brief glance: the stadium being half-empty, she didn't understand why Griffin was asking such a question, as he could take a seat anywhere!

'Y-yes, of course!'  
'Thanks!'

They both made themselves comfortable, as Kate tried her best to hide her confused shakings, pulling on her fingers and avoiding his gaze so he couldn't see her reddened face. She had never been that close to him... She felt disturbed. However, in order to no look dull, she tried do some small talk:

'You came to support Maggie?'  
'Dawkins?' he repeated. 'No, we're here for Sam! He participates to the trials too!'  
'Sam... Samuel Vifdor?' she wondered.

Evan pointed out the tiny boy, who was wanting in stick out from the crowd. He was frail, with messy hair, and a shy expression. No doubt he didn't have the stature one could expect from a Quidditch player.

'I-I didn't know he wanted to be Seeker too!'  
'He's very passionate. Very gifted too.' explained Griffin, with his wide, show-off smile. 'Maybe not as much as I am, but the post suits him best... So, he can have it.'  
'Why don't you try anyway?' babbled Kate as she gave, not without difficulty, a smile she was hoping to look natural.  
'I want to be a Keeper, like my brother. It will be easier to be in the team if he nominates me in replacement. I won't have to do the trials, you see? I'd rather wait two years and have the post I want than face the others and be a Seeker right now. I'm not really interested in that...'

Griffin was speaking with disconcerting ease, his eyes focused into his interlocutor's. Kate was bewitched.

'Al-alright!'  
'What about you, Whisper?' asked Evan. 'Will you make a team for Shatterfly?'  
'There's only the three of us and... I don't play Quidditch very well. I mean... I think. I never really tried, actually. But no, I don't think so...!'  
'Shame,' regretted Griffin as he shrugged his shoulders, 'there would have been more matches in the year!'  
'B-but I'll try and ask to professors next year, if there are enough students!' Kate made up for it, wanting to agree with him.  
'That would be awesome!'

They shared a smile, before they looked more attentively to what was happening on the pitch. One by one, the students were showing what they were capable of when it came to catching a Snitch. The little ball was tampered in order to move slower than usual, avoiding the risk for the trials to last three hours...!

'There really are some tourists.' mocked Griffin as a fourth year passed by, having a hard time to balance on his broom.  
'If it's their dream, they can try to fulfil it.' Kate took their defence before she pressed her lips together.  
'Whisper, you're too... blimey, I can't find the word. How do you say it, Evan, when someone is too nice?'  
'Er... Altruist?'  
'Yes, that' it! You're too altruist, Whisper!'

The compliment made Kate blush once again and she hid her face against her opposite shoulder. Some entrants were defending their place. One of them, a fifth year named Ellen Frobisher, performed a wonderful rollover to catch the Snitch, however, the time she lost making this figure penalised her. More than being aesthetic in their way of catching it, they had to be fast. The competition was fierce...

When it came to Maggie's turn, her elders whispered between themselves in groups.

'What is your name?' asked Gareth, his head held up high and a barely mocking smile at the corner of his lips.  
'Maggie Dawkins.' she answered with determination.  
'You're in... first year?'  
'Second.'  
'You think you can succeed? A Snitch is pretty fast, kid, you know...!'  
'I have more technique than I look like. I train since a long time... And, not saying the entrants are fat, but I'm a lot lighter than the most of my rivals here. Consequently, I'm faster...'

Her firm gaze was still making some laugh, while Gareth showed understanding, surprised by her speech and her expression of immutable confidence.

'Good. Hop on your broomstick, we'll see that.'

Maggie stepped slightly aside to climb over the broom she had borrowed in the storeroom. Kate learnt later that she had had to fight with the others in order to not find herself with the last antique and dusty Cleansweeps, dying in the bottom of the closet and not even having enough brushwood to be used as a brush! However, there was no doubt Maggie possessed the latest broomstick at her place, if it wasn't a complete collection.

The broomstick between her thighs and her Quidditch goggles arranged, Maggie looked with a piercing eye the Snitch that Gareth was holding between his fingers, his arm stretched up, while the permanent players were still sharing their feelings about the little Gryffindor's participation. In the bleachers, Kate felt her heart racing in her chest, focused on her friend.

'Ready?'

Her nod loosen Gareth's grip, releasing the Snitch that dashed into the air. Immediately, Maggie flew after him, taking off at maximum speed in a controlled acceleration, skilfully avoiding the others as she was flying at less than three feet high before gaining altitude. Kate couldn't help but rise up and encourage her loudly, without even being concerned about her two Gryffindor neighbours' judgement:

'Go Maggie!'

The little girl mastered her broom, it was obvious. She handled accelerations and turns with prowess, without leaving her eyes off the Snitch ahead. Kate's heart was racing hard in her chest, even though it wasn't her on the broom. Her friend's victory was, for now, her only desire. A consecration for her; she would finally be recognised, not as the school's pest, a spoiled by wealth girl, but as a consummate player when only twelve years old.

Catching up the Snitch in a peak velocity, Maggie stretched her arm as far as could and grabbed, before making a turn on herself, the tiny ball of victory.

In the bleachers, even Moira let her joy ring out. As for Terry, his bet might be lost, with a forfeit as a result, nevertheless, he applauded the performance, as many others, including her competitors. Gareth Gale was disconcerted when Maggie came back down to the ground, a radiant smile on her face, wielding the Snitch, symbol of her success.

'One minute and twenty-seven seconds.' announced Betty Bushby, the Chaser who controlled the times with a precise and graduated sandglass, while her teammate, Jade Danielson, wrote them on a board in front of each name.  
'We have our record time here.' chuckled Gale, rising up.  
'And it wasn't luck...' said Maggie, giving him the Snitch in person, staring him in the eyes; a thing that most girls in the school would have fainted doing it, in front of the Gryffindor prince's charisma.

Then, she turned on her heel, proud having shutting up her elders and pretending to throw her hair back in a deliberate proud gesture. Maggie remained provocative through and through...!

'Ahem... Well... Next!'

After her, it was Sam Vifdor who presented himself.

'Don't claim victory so quickly for your friend...' Griffin warned her as Kate sat down, catching her breath, ecstatic.  
'She did the best time!'  
'Wait to see...'  
'Sam is some kind of hardcore Quidditch specialist; his biggest dream is to become a Seeker.' added Evan, bending forward to see his interlocutor. 'You should see what he did with our dormitory. There are a lot of posters of the greatest Seekers, he even has Viktor Krum's autographed framed photo on his bedside table, just next to his Golden Snitch shaped alarm clock...!'  
'And you think that gives him better chances?' she shrugged her shoulders, without losing her smile. 'It's the performance that matters, not passion. A photo won't allow him to catch the Snitch faster.'

Evan and Griffin shared a significant look, a bit mocking, before the latter explained to her:

'I don't know if you're aware, but Sam is an orphan since the war. His parents were killed by Death Eaters. Since then, he only lives for Quidditch. And when I say only for that... I mean ONLY for that. He doesn't really have any other purpose in life. It allows him to survive, kind of... He has more guts than Dawkins...! It's not a whim.'

Without answering, Kate observed the young Gryffindor who was babbling his name, squinting in front of Gareth's backlit silhouette.

'S-Sam...!'  
'And your last name?'  
'Vifdor.'  
'Hey, but you're Griffin's friend! I knew I saw your face somewhere. Alright. Well, then... show us!'

When Sam mounted his broomstick, he felt a new ardour arouse inside him. He was in his element and Kate noticed it when she saw he wasn't shaking anymore, but stood still, his eyes focused on Gareth's hand. When his fingers unleashed the Snitch, Sam flew like an arrow. His foot skimmed the captain's ear. It took only a few seconds for him to catch the Snitch; simply just that long.

Kate was astounded, just like most of the spectators.

'... Nineteen seconds.' said Betty, disconcerted by the youngest entrant's performance.  
'That was beginner's luck.' chuckled Gareth who had a hard time believing it. 'Can we do it again?'  
'He already proved himself, is that really necessary?' asked Robins, his teammate with blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, frowning.  
'I'd rather be sure it wasn't complete luck. If he is that talented, he can do this again... Is that okay for you, Vifdor?'  
'Y-yes. Okay.'

Under the scrutinising glance of all the students in the stadium, Sam went again after the Snitch, which fused in the sky, like a tiny golden rocket. The young Gryffindor flew straight up, his broomstick against his chest. Everything seemed already calculated in his head; the Snitch's course, his broom's. He caught it with as much easiness and agility as the first time, which didn't miss to impress the entire stadium.

'That's our little Sam!' Griffin congratulated himself giving a high five to Evan, both of them proud of their roommate's prowess.  
'That's... That's amazing!' said Kate, slack-jawed.  
'Twenty-four seconds!'  
'Well... I think we found our new Seeker!'

The crowd let its joy burst out after Gareth's declaration, covering up any disappointment from the other entrants. They had insurance and hope for Ginny Weasley to have found a worthy heir of her talent.

* * *

The same evening, good mood was set into the Gryffindor common room, where students were acclaiming their new Seeker. To celebrate their beginner's success, the elders had concocted some tests for Sam to pass – or mini-Sam, as they called him –, in order to, according to them, make him tenured. It was good-natured challenges, like catching crazy chocolate frogs in a bucket full of slugs' slime that sixth years borrowed in a basement's laboratory. Most of the students were enjoying the show. It was the case for the second year girls: Moira took place at the front, urging Sam in his tests with a powerful voice, with Suzanna, who didn't miss the chance to pull out her camera, while Scarlett stayed a bit in the background. Maggie had also moved away from the noisy crowd, nevertheless observing the scene with a slight smile.

'You're not too disappointed?' asked Kate, worried.  
'At first, yes, a little.' she admitted as she shrugged her shoulders. 'But at the end, I'd rather do Terry's challenge than this one...'

She pointed her chin at Sam who was plunging his entire arm into the slime, under the shouts of encouragement and the disgust of other students.

'Yes... I BROADLY prefer to offer a heart-shaped Chocoballs box to Moira, for any reason, even torture, rather than lose my arm, eaten by the slugs' mucus acidity...'

Kate chuckle as she imagined the scene to come in their dormitory, of the tiny girl discovering a mysterious box to rival Valentine's Day on her pillow, actually coming from Maggie's defeat.

'Anyway, you really played well... Maybe you'll be an alternate Seeker!'  
'Maybe, but it's not my first intention, I'm upset I lost for so little... But... why do you have your cape on? Are you going out?'

Indeed, Kate's cape was put on her shoulders, as if she was about to go out of the common room. The latter had a grimace:

'I have Slughorn's dinner tonight... I don't want to miss it.'  
'Oh, I thought we could have go let off steam on innocent toads bubbling in the lake...'  
'Another time...! See you later!'

Getting around the crowd, Kate headed towards the exit and passed through the tunnel that led to the Fat Lady's portrait, who was savouring a bunch of grapes.

'Don't come back too late, young girl!' she warned her.

The stairs weren't very crowded at this hour of the evening. Most of the students were dining in the Great Hall, except the Gryffindors who were properly celebrating their new player's formalising. The rather gloomy atmosphere of the school made Kate shiver, scared by some childish fears. This came true when, to her greatest displeasure, Peeves appeared in front of her, after passing through the portrait of a man who was smoking an ivory, unicorn-shaped pipe. The poltergeist showed his teeth when he arrived in front of Kate, petrified with anguish.

'But you're the houseless! The one no one wants!' he cackled.  
'I don't want to have troubles tonight.' she stammered. 'Please, leave me alone...'  
'Oh, she squeals like a baby! Houseless baby!'

And while he sang a grinding melody to her with rhymes with "houseless baby", Kate looked for somewhere to run away and ran down the stairs, her head in her shoulders in order to not having to look him in the eyes once more. However, when she arrived on the first floor, she was stopped in her course: Peeves stepped on her cape, preventing her from going on.

'Leave me alone!' she repeated, both supplicant and exhausted, while pulling on her cape.  
'Houseless baby, for no reasons always whiny! Houseless baby, in all seasons rainy!'

Overtired, Kate yanked as Peeves released the tissue under his foot. The comedown was unforgettable. Down the stairs she had just tumbled down on her ass and her back, Kate, all sore, couldn't hold her tears of pain and shame, and curled up. Peeves' determination didn't stop there though, as he kept on singing while cavorting in the air:

'Houseless baby, when she cries, she looks like a Demiguise! Houseless baby, when she moans, the whole Hogwarts applause!'  
'That's enough, Peeves!' exclaimed a voice.

From up the stairs, Clive Ollivander appeared, clearly furious against the poltergeist. Worried for the young student, he rushed towards her as he lectured the ghost:

'Clear off and don't come back, otherwise, I will notify professor McGonagall and the Bloody Baron as a bonus!'  
'Young people nowadays use such a crude vocabulary...!' Peeves faked offense as he levitated and made capers in the big staircase, after he gave them a brief grin, not really reassuring.  
'Hey, Kate, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?'

She raised towards him a haggard and bathed in tears face, her nose bleeding; she must have hit it against a step during her fall.

'Well, he didn't miss you...!' he grimaced.  
'C-Clive?' she cried. 'He... he obeyed you?'  
'Wait, don't move...'

His wand in his hand, he waved it nimbly.

' _Episkey!_ '

A loud "crack" resounded in the staircase, followed by Kate's squeal who bent towards as she massaged her nose, mumbling swears to dissipate the pain.

'It should stop bleeding now...'  
'Thanks, Clive. But... why did he obey you and not me?' she repeated, wiping her tears. 'I'd like him to listen to me... I did nothing to him! Why is he always so mean to me?'  
'Being prefect has some advantages.' he boasted about, pointing at his badge sewn on his chest. 'Among other things, the ghosts' respect, Peeves included... And if it reassures you, manner of speaking, he's like that with everybody. You know, when I was your age, he put onion jelly in my bag, with my homework in it... McGonagall took me three points for the filthy smell coming from my parchments...! But you'll see, as years go by, he will annoy you less. Anyway, where were you going like that?'

Kate got up, her back still painful, knowing she would have bruises tomorrow unless she used an ointment, and moved a few steps towards the dungeons when she noticed Clive was taking the same exact direction.

'To Slughorn's dinner.'  
'Oh? You too? Well, you're not an ordinary person anymore, no wonder he invited you!'  
'What about you? Are you part of the... Slug club for a long time?'  
'Only since last year... Before, with the war, relations were a bit complicated, from students to students as well as from students to teachers. My name never was unnoticed by Slughorn. But the dinners with him aren't the most unforgettable of all; on the contrary, sometimes they're so boring...'  
'Then... why are you going?'  
'A good free meal and the insurance of having a few more points on your next work, there's no reason to complain... And Slughorn isn't a mean teacher. He just needs appreciation...'

Clive addressed a brief smile to her as they came down the dungeons, passing through the narrow stoned corridors lit by a few torches. Kate really liked the boy. First, because he was taking care of Eliot, like a true friend, always close to him. Second, because she had to admit he was charming and always caring with others. In her imagination, he was the big brother she never had. Clive always inspired sympathy to a lot of people; that was probably why he has become Ravenclaw prefect this year. With his wise and brilliant gaze behind his rectangular glasses, his slight smile at the corner of his lips, giving away a part of timidity in him, and his opened-to-discussion look with anyone who would like to talk to him about anything.

The room in which Slughorn invited them was well prepared for the occasion: a large round table was set with emerald-green satin placemats, crystal glasses and silver cutleries. Clive and Kate weren't the first to arrive: three students were already here. In which Kate only recognised her Shatterfly mate, little Eibhlin, immobile on her chair. As for their potion teacher, he was on a comfortable, quilted chair, early enjoying a Firewhisky, making the amber beverage swirl in its chiselled glass. His small mouth stretched into a wide smile, not very reassuring, when he greeted his two newcomers.

'Good evening, professor!'  
'Mister Ollivander, Miss Whisper! So glad to have you with us tonight! Please, take a seat wherever you want...!'

By instinct, Kate took place next to Eibhlin, followed by Clive who settled on the nearby chair. The two girls shared a brief look before Kate started to stare at the two other students, far older than her. The first one seemed to be about sixteen on seventeen and was wearing the Hufflepuff uniform, as for the second one, Kate thought she recognised the Slytherin Quidditch team's captain.

'Portraits have ears and it seems like a little party is organised in the Gryffindor common room for your new Seeker.' said Slughorn to Kate.  
'Indeed.' she stammered. 'And he's very talented! Y-you probably will have the chance to see him at the next match!'

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the Slytherin student's sneaky smile, in anticipation of the opening match in which the two rival teams would face each other.

'I don't doubt it!'

At the same time, the door opened again and two new students came in. One of them was Calypso Curtiss, one of Kate's classmates. If she was from the snake house and always seemed cold and proud, Kate kept in mind that the young ebony-haired girl warned her about Morgana and her sidekicks' shenanigans last year. She owed her for that.  
Then Denis Crivey, the Gryffindor prefect Scarlett was secretly worshiping, joined them, with two Ravenclaw girls and Head-Boy, Benjamin Berclays, some called "Inspector Berny", with the Hufflepuff badge sewn on his vest.  
When only one seat was still vacant, Slughorn took his pocket watch from his jacket, distended by his belly, and babbled when noticing the hour:

'Well, isn't our last guest a bit late?'

On these words, as if the question forced him to show up, the last students entered the room: it was Tetsuya Matsuda, the second first year to be sorted into Shatterfly. There was no doubt for Kate now that her teacher wanted the first students to inaugurate Hogwarts' new phenomenon to like him.

'Mister Matsuda, we were just talking about you!'  
'I'm on time, professor, excuse-me if you thought I would be late...!' he said politely, bending forward his chest, his arms straights against his body.

Then, with a smile, he sat on the last vacant chair between Curtiss and Berclays. Intrigued by this boy, to whom she didn't speak yet, while they were sharing the same experience about their respective repartitions, Kate discreetly observed Tetsuya while the seafood platters appeared in front of them.  
Just as Clive made it sound, the dinner appeared to be excruciatingly boring, coloured by a shared discomfort between the students. Only their professor spoke, interrogating from time to time his guests.

'So, how is your book progressing, Miss Pigluck?' he asked to one of the Ravenclaw girl who, failing to be embellished by her impressive nose, had a pretty smile.  
'I sent it to the publisher, professor; to be more precise, to Obscurus Books. I'm waiting for their answer!'  
'Good...! If you want, I could slip a word to my contacts to intercede on your behalf. But I'm sure, my dear, that you will fulfil your dreams!'

Then, he spoke to the younger ones, who were probably there for the first time, Kate included, explaining in more details:

'Miss Pigluck is quite a writer and will probably become one of the greatest authors! Know that many of her novelettes were published in the Daily Prophet.'

However, Kate pretended to be more interested in her whelk than her schoolmate's literary ambitions, far too embarrassed by the situation to fake curiosity. She shared a brief look with Clive, who had the same feeling.

'What about you, Mister Matsuda?' said Slughorn, his head inclined, his piggy little piercing eyes under his grey thick eyebrows. 'Tell us about you... I assume a lot of people around this table are curious about your presence at Hogwarts, while the educational system in your country is exceptionally effective. Not that I'm disparaging our school, of course...!'  
'My father is a great diplomat.' explained the young Japanese without blinking, with a courteous smile. 'I live in England for six years now. My parents hesitated to send me to the Japanese Wizarding School, indeed, but they saw fit to put me in Hogwarts, which I don't regret.'  
'Tell us about that school. My knowledge about your land turns out to be strongly limited, I fear...'  
'The Yamamoto Kia Desushi school. It is located on the Mount Fuji mountainside and we can reach it only by the giant hot-air balloon, in a nacelle that can carry more than three hundred people. It's a group of shrines. We have about the same subject as Hogwarts, except they handle telepathy thanks to the concentration lessons.'  
'Yes, indeed, your Asian fellows are known in the entire world for their ability to control magic without the help of a wand, in certain circumstances... That's impressive!'

Despite her efforts, Kate had a hard time picturing this school; she realised she didn't know much about the external world. Even though the last years of her life were reduced to the war, Kate had, as many other wizards, locked herself in her own universe, without trying to see beyond the rather obscurantist borders of her society. A lot of young English people easily forgot that the gift of magic wasn't something only reserved to them, but that the entire globe was sprinkled with wizards and witches, on all continents.  
When they arrived to the main dish, a gargantuan roast, seasonal venison, it was Eibhlin's turn to be interrogated by their professor. However, she appeared to be far less talkative than her housemate, just answering simply, without trying to substantiate the conversation. Kate took advantage of this occasion to try to organise her hypothesises about the standards which would make the Hat to sort someone into Shatterfly. However, Eibhlin and Tetsuya seemed two perfect opposites. First one was reserved, quite distant and directive, second was more likely to socialise, cheerful and talkative. Slughorn concluded her thought:

'That's pretty strange to raise this concomitance, saying that two students from different countries are sorted into the fifth house...! That's a hypothesis that could make sense. What do you think, Miss Whisper?'

Caught off guard, Kate dropped her fork in her plate, but answered nevertheless:

'Perhaps, nothing is really certain yet... for now, we can only make hypothesis, professor!'

Slughorn nodded, savouring a sip of his pumpkin juice that he had taken instead of his Firewhisky, even though he kept some for the dessert to come. This was a bowl of last season's fruits, complemented by mountains of whipped cream, which didn't miss to delight the youngest of them.

'It's raspberry and mint flavoured at the same time.' whispered Clive as Kate enjoyed it after putting a spoonful of it in her mouth, a radiant smile on her soaked with cream lips.  
'Oh, really? That's truly delicious!'  
'Yes, it alternates tastes depending on how long you keep it in mouth.'

Their teacher, who had fun studying his students' behaviours, quickly noticed the whispers between his two diners and didn't miss to make an oral observation:

'You seem to know each other. Are you relatives? I don't think you are yet...'  
'We have a common friend, professor.' explained Clive politely as Kate was swallowing her cream as if she could be fed with only that for the rest of her life, just like many others around the table. 'Her cousin is one of my best friends in this school. Eliot Burbage, I think you know him.'  
'Oh, yes, poor boy... He had to stop school during two years if I'm right. He seems a bit lost today... So he's your cousin, Miss Whisper?'

Kate swallowed her bite of cream before daring to answer, afraid to spit it everywhere, while on the other side of the table, Calypso Curtiss seemed to be observing her with a curious and a bit contemptuous look.

'Indeed professor. He's my only cousin.'  
'You don't have any other ones? Brothers or sisters, maybe?'  
'No, professor! I'm an only child...!'  
'That's strange, I wouldn't have thought so, you see! Although... knowing your father, the idea of him, having a daughter of your age already must be complicated for him. I hope his doing something else than fooling around today! Since the time...'  
'He's still young-at-heart! He makes a lot of jokes at home!'

Then, he spoke to the entire table, especially to the new ones that didn't have the occasion to know more about Clive, their Ravenclaw prefect.

'Mister Ollivander, as his name speaks for it, is Sir Ollivander's grand-son, the famous wand maker, who has his shop on Diagon Alley. I think that everybody around this table already entered this shop to buy the wand that's in your pockets... Besides, if I'm not mistaken, Clive, can you confirm... you are his only grand-child... Am I right?'  
'Yes, professor, you are...!' he answered, his gaze alternating between his teacher and his fruit cup, which he was eating cautiously, bit by bit.  
'As you all know, Sir Ollivander is old and about to retire. With war and its twists and turns, your grand-father needs rest now. And so... Mister Ollivander here is the well suited heir to replace in his shop. Later, in a few years, when Mister Ollivander obtains his N.E.W.T, let's hope, nearly two years from now, he will take over the business. Nevertheless, he's very talented for his age... There, Miss O'Cearbhail, hand over your wand and you'll see!'

The Irish little girl, too focused on her crystal cup that she was scraping with her spoon in order to take every last bit of melted cream, immediately raised her eyes and first looked at her potion teacher, then on the young Clive. With a bit of hesitation and suspicion, she pulled out her wand and handed it over, her arms right under Kate's nose. Arranging his rectangular glasses on his aquiline nose, Clive took it and weighed it in his hand first, before he detailed it at all aspects. His moves were precise, skilful, his gaze piercing as an eagle's, the symbolic emblem of the house in which he was prefect. One could see he knew what he was doing; it wasn't his first wand examination. Then, he declared:

'Hmm... I'd say it's oak wood; a centenary oak. It's even a rare kind that's only found in great North Europe's forests... it's about eleven and a half inches. At first, it was supposed to be at least twelve, but my grand-father must have thought it had to be shortened to balance it. We can see it by the aspect of the end, round and abraded.'

He turned it between his fingers, while everybody was examining his performance attentively.

'Unicorn hair, undoubtedly.' he kept on, eyebrows frowned.

Then, he took it with his two hands and slightly pushed the wood with his thumbs to test its resistance.

'It's not very flexible. I must say its handle is doubled with tiny, semi-circular tiles. It's a quality wand, which suits an iron-willed and directive person. You have to be skilful to handle it, to have enough guts...'

On these words, he gave back her wand to Eibhlin, for the least surprised by this analysis that, apparently, seemed rather true. Some applauded the performance, just like Slughorn, who, impressed, was clapping his large, sweaty and greasy hands with a blissful smile. One could smell his pride of having found such a paragon among his students.

'Well, what a remarkable performance, Mister Ollivander, I'm blown, as always! See, Miss O'Cearbhail, this young man can read wands. Even deep in your heart, your secrets, everything you'd like to hide from him, your darkest facets; he will see it; in your wand. I'm telling you... This boy is gifted, destined for greatness, believe me! I am certain that, later, your children will come to his shop to buy their wands. It's a lifetime memory, just like all of you with yours; the one you bought to his grand-father. Mister Ollivander, you will rock the world of an entire generation of wizards. And for that, I'll never grow tired of raising my glass. Let's give a toast to your success. And to the success of all the people here, around this table.'

Then, Slughorn raised his crystal glass, in which his amber beverage gleamed and everyone did the same. Kate resolved to raise hers, which was filled up to the top with pumpkin juice, and nearly spilled it because of her awkwardness. But she only just avoided the catastrophe.

'Dear students. I'm proud of you. I hope you will be too later. To your success!'

Then he swallowed his whisky bottoms up and everyone put their drinks on their lips, without doing the same though, and sipped it. Kate shared a look with Calypso Curtiss. She still didn't know what she was doing around this table. And it wouldn't be tonight that she would know...  
When it was time to go back and all the students left, their belly full, Slughorn stayed at the door to say goodbye to each one of them, one by one. Kate took advantage of it to sneak behind Calyspo's elegant and calm steps, hoping to catch some words their potion teacher would tell her before she'd leave. Calypso shook Slughorn's large hand, which was its perfect opposite, small, slender and pale. Even in such circumstances, no smile lightened up her face. She just gave an unmistakable neutral look, like if no emotion could have changed a single feature of her doll-like face.

'Good evening, professor, thank you again for doing me the honour of inviting me to one of your dinners. I will undoubtedly respond the call when you send another invitation.'  
'Pleasure is mine, dear. Say hello to your parents and siblings for me... Little Nestor included. He's attending Hogwarts next year, right?'  
'Indeed. Should his health permit him...'  
'I thought he was doing better...'  
'It's quite "labile" according to the healer. I don't know exactly what that means, but Nestor is going through ups and downs... That's the way it is. But he'll get better. We have hope.'  
'And I do too, especially for him. Well good night Miss Curtiss, sleep well...!'

Then it was Kate's turn, concerned about what she just heard. So much that it took her a few seconds to notice Slughorn's hand stretched towards her.

'Well, Miss Whisper. We surely will have the occasion to see each other again in such, for the least, uplifting circumstances, I must say...' he whispered as he put another hand over their grip, as for emphasizing his words. 'It would be a shame to end at this point, what do you think?'  
'I completely agree with you, professor.' she stammered, smiling, as she thought now was the time to use some cunning and a little well-placed hypocrisy. 'There are still so many mysteries around Shatterfly, I wouldn't miss the chance to talk about it with you and the other students. Perhaps your suggestions will be useful to... sustain my reflexion!'  
'I'm certain, Miss Whisper. Go to sleep now, I gave you some homework for Monday; it would be a pity if you can't come because you're too tired! And, once again, say hello to your new Seeker for me, I look forward to see his first match! Especially as it's again Slytherin! They're talented; it's high-level competition at this stage!'

When Clive was done with their professor too, he ran after Kate and called her out:

'Hey, wait!'  
'What is it?' she wondered while raising her eyebrows, her hand on the banister.  
'I'll walk you back to your common room... At this time, Filch is walking around; he could catch you and think you're up to something... It would be a shame if he sent you to detention for no reason. Besides, that would make him too happy; let's not give him this chance.'  
'You're right.' she smiled. 'And so, Peeves won't bother me...!'  
'Exactly...!'  
'Great! Thanks a lot, Clive!'

They climbed together the stairs, tiredly, weighed down by their pretty full stomachs. Tonight's meal was particularly luxurious, they had to admit it!

'Can I ask you something, Kate?'  
'Hmm? What is it?'  
'I'm trying to talk to Eliot from time to time... I mean... about what happened before he went into a coma and sent to St Mungo's. But he doesn't want to tell me anything, he refuses to say a single word. And I feel bad! Merlin, I'm his best friend! Why wouldn't he...'  
'It's painful for him, you know it.'  
'Yes, but... I want to understand him better. And I thought... that you might enlighten me a bit about the reason he remains silent. Why. Why he says nothing, despite all. What is your last memory with him? The last thing you did together before all this happened...'

Kate's face clouded over gradually. Clive, who noticed that sudden change, tried to make it up and preferred to back down from his comment:

'But if you don't want to talk about it, I'd understand...! I'm sorry!'  
'No... it's not that... You know... actually, I'd like to talk about it. It's just that I don't really know to who, each time I feel the need to. I don't want to tell Eliot; it would hurt him a lot, maybe could make him angry. I can't express myself about that with my Gryffindor friends. I have the feeling they didn't live the war the way I did. And I'm afraid they wouldn't understand what I feel... why I'm still afraid today. And why I'm having such a hard time to...'

Clive put a hand on Kate's shoulder and slowed her down before he asked her to sit down on the steps. They did it in an awkward silence. Kate sighed as she wrapped her shaking arms around her folded legs, her knees against her mouth. She felt tears running down her throat but she swallowed them instead of showing them to Clive.

'I'm here to listen to you, if you need it. That would allow me to understand. I feel concerned about what happened to Eliot. Everything he's been through during this whole year when he was absent... even before that. So, yes... I'm listening to you. Tell me, Kate...'

Yet, she remained silent for a long moment before she decided to speak, to get this off her chest. That burden, so heavy and terrifying it seemed to want to assail her conscience and her dreams in order to turn them into nightmares...

'It was during Easter holidays. In 1997. When war was only just beginning. Yes, that was just the start. Well... for us, it wasn't really. We knew, more than anybody, that we were in danger. Because of my father. Because of my aunt. Aunt Charity. Eliot's mum. That day, aunt Charity was supposed to go to Diagon Alley to give her article to a publisher. A newspaper, actually. I think it was for the Daily Prophet. But I'm not sure. Sometimes, I don't really want to remember, you know?  
'And so, for that, she asked for my dad's help. She knew she was in danger when she was going out, into the wizarding world. She was at grave risk. So my dad went to their house. To the Burbage's. And I went with him. Because I deeply wanted to see Eliot. I always liked him a lot. And we were seeing each other less and less since he was at Hogwarts. I wanted to make the most of it. And my presence reassured him, somehow. He too was afraid for his mother... And it was understandable.  
'So we both stayed alone at his home while aunt Charity and dad went to Diagon Alley. They repeated all the usual precautions. Let the doors and windows closed. Don't answer the phone... Which was silly, I barely know how that works, only my mother knows how to use that thing! Don't open the door, even if someone knocked. Especially if someone knocked. And they left. They casted protection spells on the door. Even if it meant to be reassuring, it wasn't... I had the feeling we were going to be attacked anyway. It was predictable. Nothing could have stopped them. It was silly... It scared us more than anything...  
'We still played. But it was complicated. I was trying to calm Eliot down. But he was anxious. Very anxious. And I didn't know what to do. We didn't share the same interests anymore. When I wanted to play hide-and-seek or things like that, he retorted it was for babies. But I was still young at this time. He wouldn't understand. Already back then, he was starting to withdraw into himself. I didn't really recognise him. But I loved him anyway. After all, even if he's my cousin, I always considered Eliot as a big brother.  
'He proposed to show me some spells with his wand. I said no. That he couldn't... He was too young; he was only in second year. The Ministry could catch him easily. And with all the problems, it could stir up the Death Eaters... But he didn't listen to me. What an idiot... I was crying. It seemed to amuse him. It was like a way to forget we were in danger... But it didn't miss. When they arrived at the door...  
'First, there were courteous knocks on the door. Like a neighbour. A voice. Almost familiar. But it wasn't. I was scared to death. I wanted to hide, anywhere. Eliot too was terrified, I felt it. Yet, he went to the door. He rose on tiptoe and looked through the peephole. He revealed us. They knew we were inside. They knew we were alone. So I ran. I was still crying. But I choked on my tears to try and make as little noise as possible. I thought there was still a chance... Maybe they didn't hear us... I caught Eliot's arm and pulled him back with all my strength... We had to hide. Absolutely. Right now. Our lives were depending on it.  
'I fell in the stairs while trying to climb the steps at maximum speed. I scratched my knee, but I didn't scream. And Eliot rose me up quickly while they were drawing their wands. Upstairs, we searched for hiding places. And even if I knew this house by heart, it was difficult... They shouldn't be finding us. It was hide-and-seek where our lives were at stake... yes... If we were found, we were dead, plain and simple. We were aware of that. While I was only nine... how could I have lived normally in these conditions? I... I knew what was about to happen... And so did Eliot...  
'We went into his room and he hid me between his two mattresses to keep me from being found. I wanted him to stay with me, but we couldn't stay in the same room, or they'd find us faster. Find us faster... as if we knew they were going to anyway. And catch us. Kidnap us. Or kill us. I didn't know which one was worse.  
'I heard the door explode. Yes. Destroyed into a million pieces. Eliot took advantage of the noise to run. He stormed out of the room, to the bottom of the corridor. But I didn't know where he was going. I wanted to call him, but I couldn't. I was crying, crushed under the weight of the mattress, blankets and sheets. I could barely breathe. And I was hot. But I had to survive. I could shake, they couldn't tell... But I had an eye through the tiny gap between the two mattresses. Enough to distinguish what was happening in the corridor. There was a lot of dust because of the broken door. I heard people coming in. And talking. There were only men's voices. They were deep. Hoarse. Not very reassuring... I closed my eyes. And I prayed. I don't know what I prayed. Everything. My father, most of all, I think. I wanted him to come back. As fast as possible. To save me. To save us... I wanted to see him again. I wanted my mother's arms. I even already missed Eliot... I had this feeling that I had seen him for the last time.  
'Then I saw the shoes moving forward in the corridor. I could only see the lower part of their bodies. Their dirty capes, eaten up by moths. They had holes everywhere. And those shoes. Big ones, with studs. They hurt just by looking at them. And yet, you know some innocents received kicks in their nose by them... I understand better why they were so roughed up. Perhaps some of those shoes were still covered with blood. An innocent's blood. Whom they hit. Maybe whom they killed, at the end of it. To please him... Because death is perhaps more enviable for them... it's preferable to the torture they can inflict, that's for sure.  
'They searched the rooms. Not messily. Not like swines. No. They were thorough. They knew we were here. It made them smile. Yes. They were certainly taking a sadistic pleasure in all this. They were whistling. Calling us like dogs. With a velvety voice. Made me even more afraid. Because their slow steps were coming closer. They entered Eliot's bedroom. "I know you're here..." said the one who was in the room. He opened the closets. He searched in the curtains. He opened the balcony. And he lifted the blanket. I was so close. My breath hurt badly, it was so painful. Yet, I couldn't reveal myself. Even if I was dying to run away. Somehow, I'd rather be caught running away than doing nothing. Just ready to be picked like a fruit. Like a treasure. A little reward. Which they would enjoy their way.  
'Then he casted a spell. Homenum revelio. He had the proof. Yes, he knew I was here. Under this mattress. Yet, he did nothing. He was torturing me in this wait... while he didn't even catch me yet. My heart and my throat were hurting. I was drowning in my own tears... And then... he lifted the mattress. Slowly. Very slowly. I saw his eyes through my tears and my blurred vision... He had brown eyes. They could have been sweet. But not at that moment. Or maybe the wolf's sweet gaze when it finally found its so precious lamb... "There, there..." he said... Then he grabbed me by the collar and pulled me. That's when I screamed. While he was dragging me on the floor. I fell on my shoulder. It hurt, with my knee. Yes, it hurt everywhere, but especially in my heart, I think... Eliot has been a fool. When he heard me yelling, he rushed in screaming my name. He should have stayed hidden. The other one caught him in the corridor. While I felt the Death Eater's wand against my throat. I felt something strange. Something I never felt before. He was about to take me with him. He was about to Disapparate... I already felt my feet leaving the floor... Yet, at this exact moment, there was a white flash of light. A grip. I recognised my father's smell. His leather jacket's smell. He arrived just in time... he had Apparated in the room. And he snatched me from the Death Eater's clutches and took me in his arms, his wand pointed right at my detractor's face. A quick Expelliarmus... and the Death Eater was unarmed. They seemed to know each other. I think it was one of my dad's former friends... But he turned away from them. And they wanted to kill him in return. They wanted to kill me. In retaliation, just an old revenge story... He didn't try to defend himself... He knew my father; he knew what he was capable of. He took his wand back and fled through the window, without anything else but a laugh. The second one, however, was still keeping Eliot under his arm. With his wand on his temple. He threatened to kill him. Aunt Charity was back... she saw Eliot. Yet she didn't cry. But I could see it. She wanted to. She wanted to beg him. But she knew that, in this moment, she couldn't fall apart. Because Death Eaters take advantage of our weaknesses. My dad pushed me aside, still keeping me at the corner of his eyes. He didn't want me to see what would happen. If it were to degenerate.  
'There were discussions, of which I didn't get the meaning. Which I don't even remember. Until my dad intervened. Fortunately, he was the fastest... And he stunned the Death Eater. But Eliot had a pretty bad scare... He almost died, if my dad hadn't such good reflexes, if he was a bad shooter... We both cried in our parents' arms. And we left on that. My dad brought me home before I even could say goodbye. We had to take shelter. And my dad wanted to go back home, he feared my mum was in danger too, if his former schoolmate ran away...  
'That was the last time I saw Eliot. We had a fight. We were attacked. But there weren't goodbyes. No farewell. Only tears. And fear... Fear of dying...'

Kate ended her story on those sinister words, while Clive hanging on to her every words, disconcerted and hurt by so much pain.

'That's it. You know now for Eliot... I... I can't tell you more.'  
'I... I see. Kate... I'm sorry, I didn't know.'  
'Don't start apologising.' she smiled to forget her tears coming up. 'Everything's fine today. It's just... a horrible memory!'  
'You're right...'

He smile at her in return and kissed her friendly on the top of her head, to comfort her. Which Kate appreciated, after that so painful story she told.

'Come on, young girl. I'll bring you back to your common room.'

* * *

Well _that_ was pretty intense, wasn't it?

See you in two weeks for next chapter!


	16. Hunt through the woods

Hellooooooooo everyone! Thought I forgot you, heh? Never! I just had a lot of things to do and had a hard time juggling with it, but here I am!

I'm still not sure how often I will post yet, but be assured that I will! I don't plan on stopping translating this wonderful story!

So, sorry for the long wait, hope you'll enjoy this new chapter anyway! ^^

* * *

6\. Hunt through the woods.

'The Puffskein's echo! Ask for the Puffskein's echo, first exclusive edition!'

A powerful voice, one wouldn't expect from little Moira, was reverberating in the crowded corridor. On the occasion of their first improvised weekly paper's launching, the four Gryffindor girls at the origin of this initiative had taken place at a strategic point and were distributing their newspaper to the students passing by. Some showed curiosity and interested in this original project, others were more sceptical and there had to be some silly ones, overtly mocking them. Yet, for a first paper founded by twelve year old girls, it was a good one with twelve pages, containing animated pictures taken by Suzanna. On the title page, a little Puffskein, holding a quill, was jumping on the letters, sometimes fighting a duel with a question mark. But there mostly was this central picture of Kate, transfixed in front of the army of journalists, announcing the article by a catch phrase in large letters: "Kate Whisper; the truth about the phenomenon, when she's not scared to death!"

'That will be ten Knuts.' reclaimed Maggie with a completely natural haughty look to a fourth year who asked her for one.  
'Ten Knuts?! It's more expansive than the Daily Prophet!'  
'It's exclusive information of Hogwarts' life!' she got offended, before she spoke in more theatrical words. 'We've done all this out of the goodness of our hearts! We placed all our savings into the printing of this paper! Into the pictures…! We've sacrificed our time, our money, to give you the best information! And you dare come and complain because your cupidity makes you neglect young girls, let them decay in their poverty because of their charitable impulses?!'

In front of Maggie's scene, the student turned pale and accepted to pay the price before he left, mumbling excuses. Suzanna, who saw everything, skipped towards he friend, holding a few remaining editions in her arms.

'You really are a high-level liar, Maggie…' she chuckled.  
'Aren't I?' she boasted, wiggling her shoulders with a smirk.

Truth was, Maggie's parents had funded the entire publication of the newspaper after the latter asked them by owl. They just had had to send Suzanna's films, buy her new ones behind the Simmons' backs, to attach the articles with them and the trick was done.

'How many did you sell?' asked Maggie to her friend as she glanced at her pile, which had greatly reduced comparing to hers.  
'Hmmm… A good twenty, I think…!'  
'Twenty?!' she exclaimed, taken aback. 'How did you do?!'  
'I told the girls there was a picture of Gareth Gale at page five.'  
'Oh. Indeed, I understand better.'  
'It's better to have the strategic sense!' laughed Suzanna as she shrugged her shoulders under her big blonde curls.  
'Sometimes I wonder why we ended up in Gryffindor and not in Slytherin…!'

Further, Moira was involved in her role, distributing the papers and collecting the bronze coins. For one of the firsts times, she had the feeling everyone was seeing her otherwise than like a dwarf. That they were having more respect for her. And that was making her proud.

'Why "The Puffskein's Echo"?' asked in a low and timid voice a Ravenclaw classmate girl, Mercury Crown, accompanied with Phyllis Ledger, Marvin's twin sister.  
'Have you ever heard a Puffskein burp, Crown?'

Hearing that question, the two girls looked at each other with big wide eyes before they shook their heads. Moira explained:

'The Puffskein's burp is really powerful! You can hear it six hundred and fifty feet around! You wouldn't believe it! A Puffskein is so small! And we're a bit like Puffskeins! We're small, young and we want to be heard – not our burps, of course! – and talk about what happens at Hogwarts to everyone. Hence "The Puffskein's Echo"!'  
'Okay…! Anyway, that's a great idea!' smiled Phyllis as she adjusted her blue headband in a reflex gesture giving away her discomfort in talking. 'And… If we want to write an article, can we join the team?'  
'Yes, of course! You write it, you give it to us, we see if we validate it, we read it and correct it… And it's done!'

Scarlett, for her part, had more difficulty to go towards others to give them the paper. They could only hear her mumbles while she was holding the edition out with shaking hands. Some bothered to stop and take one from her, but most just passed by, ignoring her. She started to lose hope, thinking this job wasn't for her.

'Could I know what you're doing?'

The brief interpellation made her turn back suddenly and Scarlet found herself face to face with Dennis Crivey, her house prefect. The latter, much taller than her, frowned as he glanced at the papers Scarlett was holding against her, as red as a peony.

'You're selling newspapers?'

She was terrified at the idea that he would penalise her, or even send her to a professor, but she nodded nevertheless, tears at the edge of her eyes, her sensibility on the very surface of her skin.

'You know that it's forbidden to sell anything inside the school…'  
'Y-yes…' she swallowed.  
'Can I leaf through one?'

On those words, and seeing her prefect's features relax, she put the brakes on her anxiousness and, still nodding her chin and flamboyant red hair, held one out to Dennis, shaking. She didn't get her big blue and wet eyes off of her superior, watching for the slightest reaction as he opened the edition on a random page and read it. She even noticed a smile at the corner of his lips.

'I really like the forecasts you made about the next Quidditch match… I also hope Gryffindor wins, little Vifdor has talent to spare!'

Then he closed the paper and put his hand in his pocket to find some Knuts, which he gave to an astounded Scarlett.

'Next time, warn your professors about your initiatives, it's the least you can do.'  
'Al-alright!'

On a last, genuine smile, Dennis walked away, but Scarlett observed him, her heart light and pounding. Like a victim of naïve and innocent love, for a boy four years older than her that she was seeing as an example of virtue.

Terry and Kate were coming out of the Great Hall, after they finished their breakfasts, when they ran into their friends, distributing their newspapers. Maggie came to them, shaking the paper under their noses:

'Do you think you would go away without one, Diggle? Out of the question!'

She stuck it into his hands, before he could understand the situation. However, Kate reacted faster when she laid her eyes on the huge title on the first page: she turned pale and ripped it from Terry's hands who didn't even had the time to read the advertisements.

'"When she's not scared to death"?!' she choked before she opened the paper at the page where the article was.  
'Well, yeah. You're not like that in your everyday life; we didn't want people to see you like this!' Maggie defended herself.  
'I'm not certain that it will work as expected.' pointed out Terry, pragmatic, lifting his left eyebrow above his serious look. 'People will make fun of her even more…!'  
'… You're never satisfied anyway!'

On the page speaking about her, Kate found a picture of her on one of the double pages, taken while she was sleeping in a strange position, even completely improbable, her mouth open and her hair messy. A photo, taken with total impunity by her friends, who took advantage of this moment of vulnerability to feed their stock of pictures for their paper.  
The article himself was split in different paragraphs. The first one mentioned last year's events, with the ceremony of the repartition and Shatterfly's first evocation. Then, her personal and painful past during the war, but also her habits, her little ways, her prowess in class and her failures in practical…

' _"_ _Despite what one could think since the journalists._ ' she read out loud, her voice punctuated with quavers. ' _Kate Whisper isn't a girl who does not speak. On the contrary, she is very talkative. She sometimes even talks so much about lessons, her cousin or her father that it's restful (and even funny, see picture above) when she sleeps!"_ Do you realise what you just wrote?!'

In front of her friend's reaction, tears at the edge of her eyes, Maggie remained open-mouthed.

'B-but, at least read the last page, there, just behind, you'll see!' stammered the latter.  
'I don't even want to!' raged Kate, irascibly giving the paper back to Maggie.

Then, the young girls walked away, head down, joined by Terry after he gave to Maggie an unhappy look.

'Don't pay attention to this rubbish…!'  
'How couldn't I?! You heard! You saw! What they said about me…!'  
'It wasn't clever of them, for sure, but I don't think they were trying to hurt you.'  
'You're still defending them! While they are the ones responsible!'  
'Hey, someone has to find a reason, I'm not here to say yes to everything you say, just to please you! You're mad, I get it, but I won't tell you that it's right to have a grudge against them! And you don't have to yell at me!'

Kate looked away, ashamed, as they took the path to the Transfiguration classroom.

'You're right, sorry Terry.'  
'It's alright…'

They weren't the first to arrive; animals' cages were piled in a corner of the room for the second years. Standing in front of his desk, straight as a ramrod, professor Wolffhart observed the students who were coming in, falling silent as soon as they were meeting his eyes, and sitting in behind their desks. When no one else came in and everyone was waiting, standing still on their chair because afraid to be turned into a Russian hamster on a simple awkward movement, he estimated it was time to begin his lessons. But Kate noticed her Gryffindor friends still weren't here:

'They're not here…' she discreetly pointed out to Terry.  
'They will regret it if they're late!'  
'Gut.' started Wolffhart. 'Is there someone with enough quick-wittedness to remind us what we did on the last lessons?'

Several hands rose up.

'Ja, Herr Peakes?'  
'We talked about theoretical animal to object transfiguration.' answered the boy with a high-pitched voice. 'Then we experimented the changing of colours and sizes.'  
'It was easy to remember.' approved Wolffhart with a neutral deep voice. 'When we remember that Herr Ledger managed to make a cricket as big as a horse and that the latter ate all the fifth years' homework on my desk…'

Some discreet laughs were heard while Marvin sagged on his chair, shameful and afraid that his teacher would turn him into a koala again in retaliation, "to remind you the country you're from, Ihre Vaterland", as Wolffhart said.

'Besides, your elders rejoiced, before I gave them double homework to make up for this terrible misunderstanding… Trotzdem, I give Gryffindor five points. This being said… Does anyone have an idea of what we could do?'

The question didn't have as much success as the first.

'Niemand? Ah, Fräulein Nightingal, wir hören Ihnen.'  
'Turn an animal into an object?'  
'You're skipping a step, Fräulein. Ja, Herr Beckett?'  
'Change its consistence?'  
'Doch! That's correct, Herr Beckett, five points for your house! In the process of transfiguration from an animal to an object, you have to consider every parameter. To come from a state to another, you have to be able to change its size, its volume, its colour, but also its solidity, what it will be made of. To finally end by the form you want to give it. It's the manipulation from a being to a material, which technically isn't a material. That's why you must not skip any step, because you could compromise this being, this animal, when you're trying to make it a rocking chair. Verstanden?'

With a move of his wand, Wolffhart opened the cages and distributed the animals to his students. Kate received a turtle and Terry a quail. And while the other students were receiving their animals, the door opened and everybody turned around towards the four Gryffindor girls, accompanied by professor Flitwick.

'Please excuse them for their lateness, Wilhem, those students were with me.' he explained to his colleague who remained impassive.  
'Kein problem.'

After one last nod, the tiny Flitwick left while the Gryffindor girls, who were giving, to Kate's greatest surprise, wide smiles, installed at their tables, whispering some ecstatic words.

'Maybe you'd like some tea, Fräuleine, to embellish your conversation?' intervened Wolffhart.

Called to order, the four girls turned around, stopping their discussion, despite their delighted looks. In return, they received a crow, a baby python, a rabbit and a chameleon.

'So we'll learn how to turn your animals into stones. I don't want bricks, sand, or even ectoplasm, but real stone. Verstanden? Does anyone know the formula? It consists in four letters, corresponding approximatively to the number of neurons by people in this class, according to what I see in your homework…!'

He grabbed his chalk and scribbled in a born out gesture, scraping on the slate, making some students grimace.

' _Duro_!' he pronounced while writing it. 'As simple as that…!'

In front of the silent, holding its breath classroom, Wolffhart remained a bit impassive.

'Was erwarten Sie? Go on! I only want to see statues on your tables!'

The first Duros encountered a mixed success. On the table nearby, Fergus Fittle only succeeded in petrifying his rat's tail; which, panicked, bit the boy's finger. Terry, after he gave Kate an encouraging look, tried the spell on his little quail. The girl, as for her, looked at her turtle with a despaired look. Her confidence about practical magic was still very limited. However, she took her white wand between her fingers and raised it in front of the animal that was opening and closing its triangle mouth, as if it was asking for a piece of lettuce.

' _Duro!_ ' she articulated.

The little explosion that burst out of her wand projected her backwards, making her fall, while her turtled, which took refuge inside its shell, was endlessly swirling on its back on the table. Some mocking giggles rose up.

'I my choice of giving you a turtle was pertinent…' noticed Wolffhart when he passed near her, her butt on the floor. 'Try again, Fräulein Whisper.'

Kate nodded and got up as she discreetly massaged her painful back.

'I'm sick of this!' she complained in a whisper. 'Really, I'm tired…!'  
'Don't lose hope! When you succeed, you do it very well! Be patient! Look…! Even I can't do it yet!'

The quail, just only paralysed, tried to squeal, without managing to. Looking again at her turtle that was trying to turn on the right side, Kate sighed. Why couldn't she succeed, like everyone else? And not having to resort to the Immaterial and an intense concentration to manage to cast an easy spell?  
She picked her turtle and lifted it in front of her eyes, while her thoughts were endlessly turning around in her head. She was feeling powerless. Sad. Angry. Her fingers tightened around the animal's shell. If it was possible, she would have got rid of this strange magic. This Immaterial. This thing running into her veins. Distillating from her fingertips to this innocent turtle.  
It was the scream of a classmate nearby that pulled her from her irascible lethargy; Penny Ryan, a Hufflepuff girl, her hair tied in two long ponytails, was fixing her, horrified. Around her, other students were looking at her with the same fear on their faces. That was when she realised that the turtle in her hands, had turned into a stone, a black one, like granite. She had a hiccup of surprise and let go of the petrified animal, which fell with a bang.

'Name eines zersetzten Drachen, what's happening here!'  
'Whisper just looked at her turtle with stink eyes and... turned it into a stone!'

Not very reassured whispers were shared between students. Kate perfectly guessed what they were saying: they now thought she was able to petrify them with a look.

'Unless Fräulein Whisper is a medusa, this is very unlikely!'  
'But that's true, professor! We saw it!'

Kate, febrile, saw on her teacher's face, his discreet interrogations. He knew her secret about her mastering of the Immaterial. Maybe he would explain the phenomenon?

'She did what I asked for, that's what matter, nein?'

Both grateful and offended by his so small reaction, Kate pinched her lips and observed her stone turtle while Wolffhart turned away again, telling the other students to get back at work. However, Kate caught some whispers from behind her. She recognised Morgana's deep voice.

'Now you have proof... Whisper is nothing but a monster...'

* * *

It wasn't until late that Maggie, Scarlett, Suzanna and Moira announced her in grand style that professor Flitwick, even though he lectured them for selling their Puffskein's echo, and this, without any authorisation from their teachers, congratulated them and encouraged them. He found their information highly relevant, supported the students' initiative and proposed them to continue, on the condition that they don't sell it anymore. So the paper would be free and to everybody's disposal. In return, Hogwarts engaged to make available some money for their expenses for printing and layout, which delighted the young students who saw there the beginning of a well deserved glory.

After the first publication, people seemed to take interest in Kate. Too much, even. At least, she was living it as such, when she noticed she was watched, with more or less discretion. People spoke lower when walking past her, as if talking in front of her would turn them into stones, just like the turtle. Some laughed. Others, on the contrary, never missed a chance to share some words with her, just for them to say "I know Kate Whisper, I even talked to her!"

A clandestine celebrity Kate despised without even noticing it.

Of all those rumours and interested relations, she preferred Terry and her cousin's presence. The first showed indifference towards everything that was said and ignored Kate's new celebrity, indicating her as Harry Potter's successor, and considered her as the true friend she really was.  
As for Eliot, he was an excellent protector, without his knowledge. Kate felt strangely comfortable around him. Even though Eliot wasn't very talkative and reluctant to share his joys and sorrows, he had a considerable influence on the other students who took a delicate and repeated care to avoid him, wherever he went, as if he had contracted the plague, or worse, according to Moira who wanted to illustrate her words with big examples, the chinese dragon's gastro. A social isolation Kate appreciated at its true value. She felt like she was breathing again when with her cousin and could, at the same time, be attached to an element of her past, like a comforting memory helping her to think about something else but everything going on at Hogwarts at the moment.

However, despite everything that had happened to her until now, everything she experimented, Kate started to fear her dormant power, wainting in her, like a snake in its sandy lair, ready to jump at her and sink its venomous teeth. That was how she was seeing her uncertain mastering of the Immaterial. For a moment, she neglected her researches about her gift and the possible founder of Shatterfly.  
She, moreover, didn't find anything pertinent about it. Aside from that, Kate was still keeping in touch with Hermione Granger. The latter, who was now working at the Ministry of Magic in the service of Muggles' laws and regulation, didn't neglect her researches on the subject, for the sake of her conscience and because her scholar and perfectionist self hated the grey areas about the history of Hogwarts. She also read what said in the different newpapers and Kate sent her an edition of the Puffskein's echo, which Hermione promptly commented: "The most they talk about you, the most you'll be vulnerable, keep that in mind". An advice Kate promised herself to follow as she couldn't agree more.

* * *

The 23rd of October, a joyful frenzie had taken over most of the school, straight after the students woke up. The Great Hall became a place of impatience and effusion. The ambient good mood even delighted those who didn't necessarily feel concerned by this day's event: the first Quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor against Slytherin. Sam Vifdor's exploits went around the school like wildfire. Some students even embellished and exaggerated the words, so much, it was said that Sam was able to jump in the space to catch the Snitch before being caught back by his broom. Only first years seemed to believe it, however, many were the students who expected much of this match as the show that would make Sam's new consecration, in the line of the previous Gryffindor Seekers, who stayed in everyone's memories as excellent players. He couldn't disappoint them, he had to honour them. That was his ultimate goal.

This morning, some Slytherins who were expecting on winning the match despite all, were trying to cheer up their house. It seemed difficult, so they let off steam, throwing some pieces of brioche on the Gryffindors who passed by them. It was counter-game, but it was as Slytherins always acted. It was their way to build themselves up, somehow, but it also contributed to affect their already disreputable reputation. This morning, as many others since a few days, Kate neglected the Gryffindors table, even though she shared a room with the girls of this house, to take her breakfast with Terry. She was sort of independent, as her house wasn't yet officialised, and this situation allowed her to choose with which one she wanted to be, without being judged or too openly scorned.  
From her point of view, she observed, from time to time, turning around on her bench, the excitement at the Gryffindors table. Particularly the group of her class composed with Evan, Jason, Irwin, but most of all, with Griffin. They all greeted their champion with noisy encouragements, quickly imitated by many around the table. However, Kate didn't look at them for long, when she noticed that Maggie was watching her, her eyes filled with a slight grief, like if she was disappointed that Kate wasn't with them, even for this symbolic day for the house of the lion. Going back to her plate, blasé, she tried to forget it by talking with Terry:

'Did you bet something with Maggie for this match?'  
'No... You know, since what happened with the newspaper and all, I don't talk to her much.'  
'Because I'm mad at them doesn't mean that you have to be too!'  
'Oh, but don't worry, it's not because of you!'  
'My foot... So why would you stop your bets with Maggie overnight?'

Terry didn't answer this, for the least right, assertion. In fact, the young man was as mad at Maggie as Kate was and his detachment regarding the blonde Gryffindor girl seemed to be, for him, a kind of loyalty that Kate only half understood. She refused her friend to abandon his other relations for her, for the simple reason that she sometimes felt lonely and misunderstood by her own friends. However, their friendship wasn't questionable to her eyes. Terry always was kind, helpful, with a quite probative sense of humour and always had the gift to make her laugh in all circumstances. But Maggie seemed jealous of this complicity that had installed between them, without her knowledge. When she pointed it out to Kate, one night around a conversation before sleep, the latter sharply retorted:

'Well, good, now you know what it's like to be ignored! To be pushed aside something between friends, without understanding why!'

She was, of course, talking about the newspaper. Maggie had returned to bed, without saying a single word before the morning after, during which she cursed Sir Sulkington who had jumped on her face as he had seen a luminous point on it coming from the window.

'Will you still support Gryffindor's team? Or will you support Slytherin just because you're mad at the girls?'

Terry's question made the little girl think; she took her time to chew her brioche, smeared with blueberry jam.

'I don't know... Slytherin girls seemed better than them, at this level!'

She was lying to herself, she knew it. She just had to remember her fake friendship she shared last year with Morgana, who tried to kill her at the end of the year, in retaliation of the loss that affected her and for which she unfairly took Kate for responsible.

'You think so?' chuckled Terry, who noticed the lie.  
'Juno is adorable!' objected Kate.  
'She might be the only one in Slytherin! Her friend doesn't seem very talkative... she even seem... unfriendly! Or even sinister!'  
'It's wonderful when you use nice words, Terry! They depict the situation very well, moreover!'

She couldn't keep herself from giving a glance at the Slytherins table at the same moment, where Calypso Curtiss was reading the Daily Prophet with the most serious look, while her neighbour, the young Nightingal, was already waving her small green and silver flag for training, under the mockeries of her elders who didn't take much time to set it on fire, before a prefect came to take them points.

'Slytherins love to cast spells at each others!' mocked Terry who saw the entire scene too.  
'Let's hope they won't do the same during the match. They're already not on track but if they keep on, they're screwed...'  
'We don't know. I wouldn't bet everything on Vifdor. He never played a real match. And he can melt down in such situation. He doesn't have field experience. Look! He's so small! One Bludger and he will end up at St Mungo's in an eternal coma, with a broken skull! Not trying to break his hopes, of course.'

Discreetly turning around again, Kate looked at young Sam who was trying to take his breakfast while his friends assailed him with advices. But when she met Griffin's eyes, her heart stopped for a second and she curled up on the bench, nearly making her glass fall and spill on the table, if it wasn't for Terry who grabbed it just in time. The latter gave a significant smile seeing Kate's red cheeks. He knew perfectly well what caused such effect on her...

* * *

All the ranks were abuzz before the match even started. Screams were already tearing the packed Quidditch pitch. Even those who weren't fond of that sport wanted to come, just to assist to the crowd's emulations and what would happen. This time, Kate accompanied Terry to the Hufflepuffs bleachers. The atmosphere was very different from what she experimented with the Gryffindors, or even the Slytherins, when she accompanied Morgana, last year. This match during which Ginny had been the victim of an aggression, with her cursed broom. This time served her as an alibi, a way to make Kate believe she wasn't responsible and keep her cards hidden. This unpleasant memory made her grimace as she took a seat on the front benches, next to first years who were trading Chocolate Frog cards, regretting the fact none of them had one of the new generation including the war hero.

However, she regretted she didn't have, as usual, Omnioculars, which Maggie used to lend her during match. She caught herself wanting to ask Juffbiggles who was, as usual, strolling in the bleachers, proposing his products in exchange of candies or various items, as long as the share was equivalent. He could be useful, sometimes...! However, Terry continued to warn her and tell her not to play his game. She trusted him, as he and Juffbiggles shared the same dormitory. He also told her that the latter carried with him a huge black leather briefcase in which he stored his earnings, his treasures every night. But none of the Hufflepuff boys dared to take a look inside it yet, even though some were planning to steal it in order to discover what was inside. This briefcase was a real mystery box...

'Oh, it's starting...!' said Kate as the players entered the pitch.

Gareth Gale's arrival provoked a wave of high-pitched screams in the Gryffindor bleachers; his fan club had taken out its usual streamers and had even deployed some firework featuring their idol's effigy for the occasion. Those girls would always cross the limits of ridicule. At least, it surprised – and made laugh – more than one, Kate included...! Sam was the last one to walk on the pitch. One could feel he was febrile as he was already having a hard time following his teammates' confident footsteps.

'I don't know, but it's true... I have a bad feeling about the Gryffindors', she admitted.  
'Don't expect anything... Let the match speak for itself!'  
'Says the bets champion who only swears by forecasts.'  
'You have a point.'  
'Do you want to make a bet?' she proposed, thinking the ones with Maggie missed him despite all.  
'No, not really', he declined, shaking his head with a smile, 'I'm not in the mood...'

With this refusal, Kate saw the truth: these bets could only be made with Maggie, his companion of challenge. A kind of ritual that had settled between them, which symbolised their friendship.  
The players mounted their brooms and flew up, taking their position in the air. In the Slytherin team, Beaters were already selecting their targets: they wouldn't miss the occasion to make little Sam fall off his broom. Madam Hooch, standing in the middle of the field, unlocked and opened the box containing the different balls, freed the Bludgers that burst out, then the Snitch that fluttered until it disappeared, despite the efforts to follow it. Then, she grabbed the Quaffle and threw it in the air. Immediately, the commentator, Rose Zeller, yelled her first comments with a high-pitched voice giving away her emotions:

'Slytherin takes the Quaffle for this first start! Mark Morrington is really fast! Very talented! He skilfully avoids the other players! Oh, watch out for the Bludger! He's heading towards the rings! But Gale will stop him, for sure! Oh, YES! Gales stops the ball with his fingertips! How strong he is! Gale, I love you, you're amazing!'

Flitwick told her off under the first laughs of the crowd and the indignation of the other Gryffindor girls, who expressed their contemptuous jealousy for the commentator.

Unlike what everybody was expecting for this match, Vifdor didn't catch the Snitch in the first seconds of the match, like during trainings or his first trial. The young Seeker was bursting, searching for the golden ball. The presence of other players, some of them offensive, disturbed him. He wasn't used to such situation.

'What did I tell you...!' sighed Kate. 'He will not catch it for this match.'  
'That's strange of you to support him so little, since he belongs to your house.'  
'Gryffindor's not my house, I'm in Shatterfly!'  
'Excuse me but for now, you're a Gryffindor! That's the way it is! And... I think Griffin Gale will be very sad to know that you don't support his friend!'

Under his mischievous look, Kate couldn't keep herself from blushing suddenly, despite her efforts to keep her natural attitude: Terry discovered her secret and the attraction she felt for the young Griffin.

'L-like... what?! What do you... What?! Why do you say that, Terry?'  
'Hmmm, I don't know... Maybe just a hunch? Am I wrong?'  
'Yes, you are! That's wrong! Totally wrong! I'm not in love with Griffin! I don't even know him! I barely spoke to the guy!'

In front of the insistent look of her friend, Kate bent and curled up spontaneously, like a kitten who had just been yelled at. Then, she looked at him with supplicant eyes:

'You won't tell anyone, huh? You promise?'  
'Sure I won't, but it's not like you're very discreet! I think people will notice soon enough, and so will he!'  
'... Y-you think so? I-I hope not! Oh my god... I'm so ashamed! I... Let's stop talking about this, we have a match to watch!'

They went back to Rose Zeller's comments, though Terry continued to watch his friend a little while with a playful look.

'And that's a new score for Gryffindor! We're already at 30-10! The gap might keep on growing, as the two Seekers didn't localise the Snitch yet!'

Sam was still desperately searching for the Snitch, almost apologising for passing by the other players too fast. He almost took the Quaffle in his head during a pass between two Chasers, if he didn't have the good reflex to turn on his broom. However, the two Slytherin Beaters were still following their purpose which was making the little prodigy fall off his broom. So, Sam had to escape from the Buldgers as well as avoid the players.

'Oh, what a wonderful stop from Gareth Gale! With his foot! What a kick he has! If he were a Muggle, he would be so popular in their sport... what's it called already... the anckleball? That's it! Yes! Gale would be an icon of the anckleball!'

The tension was calming down in the bleachers as time passed by. The spectators were expecting a few minutes match, barely, but fifteen minutes had passed now, watching the Seekers fly in all directions, without seeing the Snitch.

'Oh. I think I found it...'

Terry showed Kate, the tiny golden ball that was floating slowly, a few inches above the ground, unnoticed. But Terry wasn't the only one to see the Snitch: the Slytherin Seeker, who was close, plunged vertically and flew after it.

'Oh! I think John Cliff saw the Snitch! Will it be the beginning of a long duel between Seekers? Who is the best? Which one will give to his team the first win of the season? The gap is not big enough... Slytherin could win! Or Gryffindor could confirm its victory! Go teams! Now's the moment, don't give up!'

Sam, a bit confused, localised his opponent and flew after him. He cut him off and the other Seeker changed his direction just in time to avoid him.

'Oooh... I don't know if it was intended, but what Vifdor just did was pretty dangerous! Maybe it's a technique, a strategy! And so he takes advantage back! Luckily for him, he masters his broom, otherwise they both would have crash into each other and there wouldn't have been an end to this match!'

In a tight turn, Sam, eyebrows frowned over his old Quidditch goggles, launched himself after the Snitch that was flying around, changing directions with disconcerting speed.

'He reaches out his hand! He's close! Oh, by uncle Barney's purulent boils, I think we're assisting to a new champion's birth!'

But the Slytherin Seeker caught up and wanted to remind him the bad hit he just did to him. He deliberately flew towards Sam, just like the latter did before, but this time, he didn't avoid him. He grabbed the end of Sam's broom and pushed it: the latter swirled fast, imbalanced, and crashed on the ground, his manhandled body rolling on the grass.

'Why doesn't the referee bring the play to a halt?!' exclaimed Terry. 'What the hell is Madam Hooch doing! He fell!'  
'What a twist! Vifdor fell! I repeat, Vifdor fell! It might be over for the Gryffindors! Is he moving? Yes... he seems a bit numb, but he's okay! Vifdor, is anything broken? I can't stand! What is going to happen?!'

He rose up, stumbling, his face covered with dirt and grass and ran towards his broom, ignoring the pain in his shoulder on which he had landed. He grabbed his broom and flew back in the air. This new boost of strength and determination emboldened the Gryffindors, who didn't hide their joy, just like the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws, who had to admit he was daring.

'Vifdor is back in the game! That's incredible! After such a fall, he rose up! And he keeps going! This match is amazing!'

Sam caught up Cliff on chasing the Snitch, holding his broom with his one valid arm. However, he followed him from above, in order to avoid being noticed by his opponent; until he exceeded him and quickly plunged towards the Snitch. He released his grip on his broom and, in a last hope's gesture, launched his arm to try and catch the golden ball between his fingers. The strength he put into it imbalanced his broom that changed its direction and plunged towards the ground. Once again, Sam fell, but this time all the spectators had only one question in mind: did he catch it? The commentator herself was holding her breath while the other players kept on playing. His face in the dirt, Sam was hardly moving. He opened his left hand. But there was nothing in his shaking glove but dirt and grass. No Snitch.

'Tell me he caught it, tell me he caught it, I can't see anything!' yelled the commentator.  
'He has nothing...'  
'He missed it...'

The assembly shared disappointed and resigned sighs and the Gryffindors lost hope for their Seeker to play again, given his state...

'Wait...! Wait!'

Sam's sleeve moved and the tiny Snitch extricated itself. It levitated a few inches from the ground, under the young Seeker's nose, who delicately grabbed it between his thumb and his forefinger, before the wings wrapped around the ball.

'He caught it! He caught it!'

A burst of unexpected joy shook the Gryffindors' bleachers while Sam rose up, showing his success to everyone, his valid arm brandished in the air.

'I can't believe it! While everything seemed lost, Vifdor pull out a win! He caught the Snitch with his sleeve! That's purely incredible!'  
'I have to admit, he's very talented,' applaused Terry.  
'Maybe we were too mean with him thinking he couldn't do it...'  
'Anyway, I'm glad I avoided this bet with Maggie, I would've lost!'

* * *

Sunday evenings always were very ritualised in the Gryffindors common room. It would always begin with the unfinished homework one would do in a hurry, bent over the desks. The youngest, still so naive, were playing magical cards games sitting in a circle near the fireplace, while the oldest were working on some books they borrowed from the library. One could feel the stress; the one of the Monday morning to come. Nathalie McDonald, the prefect, was reviewing the classified acts on the panel and removed the ones that were no longer relevant or the pranksters' jokes. Regularly, one could see "Searching pictures of Gareth Gale (preferably in his bedroom)", immediately removed by the prefects passing by, under the outraged looks of the girls of his fan club. Fourth years, who were lucky to have Transfiguration class at first hour this week, were doing forecasts about who would be Wolffhart's victim; he was more terrible on Monday mornings than every other day, for he deplored the end of the week-end, as everyone else. Then, when the youngest had finished their games, they regained their dormitories while the elders were continuing their homework. Finally, people left the common room one by one, their eyes fraught with meaning when they thought about the beginning of the week. The last one to regain his room, most of the time a prefect, would always turn off the candles with a _Tenebris_ and the common room slept until dawn.

But this night, tiny footsteps strummed the floor. A black shadow passed by the window, followed by another, fluffier, close to the ground that let out a 'Meow'.

'Sir Sulkington!' ranted Kate in a whisper as she made a U-turn, hidden under her cape. 'I told you to stay in the dormitory.'

The pet's wall eyes glistened under the stars' light.

'I'm warning you... if you bring Mrs Norris to me again, I'll feed you to Maggie...'

Going along the shadows, she got out of the common room on her hands and knees into the small tunnel leading to the corridor. The Fat Lady was asleep, slouched on her shoulder, an empty glass in her hand. However Kate didn't blink. She waited.

'Blimey... where is he?'

She stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out her old family compass which she opened. Throughout the months, she began to know about some symbols and associations. Some nights, she couldn't help but check if the combination of the hand and the heart would finally stop on the direction that would indicate the one who could have feelings for her. However, just like always, the arrow turned in a direction, then another, without freezing.

This night, she set it on the hand, for the person, and the shield. Around some experiments that turned badly during Potions classes, she discovered that the shield would show her something that could be able to protect her. Which she did by grabbing with curiosity the tin lid the compass was pointing at, as she was waiting for the five minutes cooking, before the ladle – which she had forgotten inside her cauldron – burst out and, fortunately, bounced on this little improvised shield. The "GONG!" surprised the entire classroom, however, she was pleased because she just had discovered the meaning of another symbol!

Once Kate correctly set her compass, the big quivering golden arrow pointed on her left and the numbers showed "085".

'He's not very far.'

Immediately, she rushed in the corridors, SirSulkington carefully following her. Fortunately, no stair decided to suddenly change its direction this night and she met no ghost. Kate still feared Peeves' interventions, moreover as she was, in this present situation, breaking the rules, walking into the castle at this hour of the night. The poltergeist would take a special delight in yelling in the corridors, waking up every single sleeping painting and drawing their attention on the little girl's escapade.

The atmosphere shrouding Hogwarts once the night had fallen always was peculiar and characteristic for Kate. The buildings were even gloomier, the torches and braziers were printing on the cold walls the terrifying shadows of statues and other gargoyles. Kate always wondered why the wizards were still sticking to this, for the least, outdated architecture and didn't opt for evolution of styles. She pictured her school influenced by Renaissance, by the industrial era, the Victorian times or even the actual technology. But no. They were sticking to the good old torchlight, fireplaces, antic tapestries and everything that goes along with this gothic style.  
Once she had climbed down all the stairs, she reached the courtyard and had to admit that the air was way colder, making her taking refuge into her plum scarf, the one Maggie gave her last Christmas, and pulling on her hood to avoid the icy breeze to take hold of her nose. Further, she found a silhouette, hidden in the building's shadows. A silhouette she guessed to be Eliot's. She recognised his messy hair falling on his blackened face in no way reached by the torches' flickering lights that were suffering the endless assaults of the wind.  
Kate closed her compass' lid once she was sure it was her cousin and put it in her pocket as she approached him. However, she noticed in a discreet glimpse that Sir Sulkington wasn't following anymore. The cat might have seen the shadow of a mouse during the walk and ran after it. Kate sighed with disgust picturing the rodent's corpse her pet would put on her pillow that she will discover when she'd return with Sir Sulkington strutting around, considering he's in right to receive a reward up to his amazing hunter skills.

'I thought you would be waiting for me inside…!' she whispered to Eliot who didn't even look at her.  
'Ultimately I thought it wasn't very cautious… With the ghosts roaming about, some prefects on guard duty and Filch… It's best to be outside. And… I could contemplate the moon.'

Kate followed her cousin's gaze and observed the full moon, big and round, like a mother-of-pearl ball hung on a black canvas above the Forbidden Forest.

'But I wasn't worried. I knew you would find me…'

He gave a slight smile that went unnoticed in this end of October's night's surrounding, greedy darkness as he turned towards his cousin.

'Ready to go? To the Mooncalf's… hunt?'  
'Hunt?' she said surprised as Eliot started to walk towards the dark woods, quickly going down the way. 'We're going to catch it? I thought we would just watch it! If we could at least find one, that would be great, wouldn't it?'  
'Yes, sorry, that's not what I meant', he corrected himself casually.

Both of them walked along the training park, where they both learned to ride a broomstick for the first time during their first year, and the Herbology greenhouses. One can hear some carnivorous plants' fangs slamming, some insects buzzing as they were eating leaves. Further down, a curl of smoke was rising from this brave Hagrid's cabin, however, the light from the window was feeble. The half-giant might have fallen asleep at this hour and only the candle was waiting, its wax flowing on the edge of the window. As they approached the edge of the woods, the moon's silhouette was eaten by the peaks. Kate couldn't lie about it: this terrifying, because forbidden, show fascinated her. She remembered the altercation with Morgana, last year, not far from here, when the Slytherin tried to kill her. What would have happened if Maggie didn't show up in time to save her in extremis from the unreasonable, unfathomable young girl's wrath?

Her heart heavy, Kate put her first step into the forest, once her cousin called her as he noticed she had stopped at the entrance of the wood:

'Don't be afraid, we're the two of us. I'll protect you…!'

Even though Eliot wanted to sound reassuring, it didn't necessarily calm Kate's anxiety. Despite this, she gave a hint of a smile. As Eliot's been asleep for two years, she perfectly knew his knowledge in spells and defence against the dark arts wasn't quite up-to-date and she couldn't help but doubt his ability in protecting her against a wild creature. Just like the gytrash Kate confronted. A gloomy encounter that still fed a lot of her nightmares. She particularly remembered those big red shining eyes, like two bloody rubies. That single thought provoked a shiver.  
She observed with great caution the grey trees, rooted in the very dust and thorns that had fallen on this cold autumn season. As if something could emerge from anywhere. She learned it very well during Hagrid's lessons; when he said, almost smiling, that Acromantulas, Gnomes, wolves and other ferocious beasts ready to suck your flesh on your bones, even children's – in fact, especially children, with fresh, soft and perfumed meat – were populating this forest.  
Eliot seemed to know the place like the back of his hand. As if the Forbidden Forest didn't have any secret for him; that surprised his cousin.

'Do you often come here alone? Or… maybe, "did"?' she asked, stressing on the past tense, slightly afflicted as they changed their direction once they went past a big rock broken in two pieces.  
'I sometimes came here with Clive, before the war… It was dangerous. But I absolutely wanted to see my first magical creatures other than in classes. Back then, we didn't have Hagrid's lessons before third year. And many times we talked about searching for a unicorn. We made a deal: he would accompany me and, if we could, we would catch some of its tail's hair.'  
'And?' she asked, terribly curious about whether or not they succeeded. 'Did you find one? A unicorn?'  
'Yes, but not immediately, it was hard… And a very long work of searches! I don't know how many sleepless nights we had! At least five! And we had our hideout…'  
'Is that where you're bringing me?'

He nodded in the dark, without answering. He resumed his speech a few steps further, as Kate followed him, keeping her wand in her shaking hand, observing the surroundings.

'But that night was… incredible!'  
'What does a unicorn looks like?'  
'Just like in the books or in the carvings. Just like everywhere unicorns are mentioned. But… seeing one… That was unbelievable! I know I could hardly live this experience twice! The unicorn saw us as we were hidden in the bushes, hoping it wouldn't smell us. My heart was racing, that was crazy. But Clive absolutely wanted to have this precious hair. He wanted to analyse it for his wands studies. And this idiot rose up. One moment, I thought the unicorn would flee. But it didn't. It just stared at us with its big hematite black eyes. You know, this black stone with beautiful silver highlights. Well, it was exactly the same. It managed to appease me, just by its presence. There was a sort of… communication. I can't put it into words; you have to live it to understand. Anyway… one thing is sure: unicorns are incredibly clever creatures. You know, it very well understood Clive wanted to take some hair from its tail. And… that was exactly like it accepted. It trusted him, and authorised him to. And after a long silence, it went back to the forest. I will never forget that night.'

Kate remained quiet, respecting the silence that fell as she kept on dragging her feet in the dust, fouling her nice little black shoes.

'And… why didn't you come with Clive today? He was the one who used to accompany you. Don't you think he would be sad to know that you…'  
'That's him who doesn't want to come anymore' he interrupted her calmly.  
'Really? Why? But he saw the unicorn too! He wasn't insensitive about that, was he…?'  
'Not at all. But with war, the situation deteriorated. There was my departure. The forest was even more disreputable than ever. You know, he saw the Death Eaters coming out from the forest, when the battle of Hogwarts began… It's visceral, symbolic. Clive doesn't want to come here anymore. It was the past, it's over for him… The end of an era, sort of… Do you understand?'

Then he couldn't help but laugh:

'And… now he's prefect! What kind of an example would he make! A prefect who wanders around in the middle of the night to accompany a friend into the Forbidden Forest in order to observe some bloodthirsty creatures! He's like that… Always keeping a stiff upper lip, you know him. And that's why he's recognised by teachers and has incredible knowledge. Don't you agree?'

Kate nodded, pertinently knowing that her cousin, who was turning his back on her while moving forward, couldn't obviously see her. She very much appreciated Clive, because of the support he was for her as well as for Eliot since he was back at Hogwarts after his so long absence and this grief he had to go through. He was a brother to Eliot and so, by extension, hers… Kate still didn't understand that awkward necessity to create this fictional family. Perhaps she was trying to protect herself from the outside world, like a cocoon; the one her parents couldn't provide her as she was away from them…  
The path led to a clearing that contrasted with the Forbidden Forest's gloomy, dry and dusty ambiance. Grass had found back its marks on the wet earth on which dew had already formed. The moon was a masterful queen, high in the sky. Trees weren't green anymore at this time of the year, but the lighting was enough to distinguish the hues of red, the shades of orange, and the fascinating death of sylvan vegetation. Then, without making any noise, Eliot pointed out a small bush aloof:

'That's here… Where we used to hide with Clive. We can give it a try… That's a good place!'  
'But what makes you think a Moooncalf will appear?'  
'Nothing ventured, nothing gained…!'

They both crawled under the bush and took place. Kate noticed the two friends already came a few times here; she felt the imprint their bodies made into the ground by staying there too long, sometimes entire nights. She easily pictured the scene with the unicorn Eliot told her about and it kept turning in her head… She wanted to talk about her own adventures, to confide in, as the first minutes of a long wait passed by.

'I never saw unicorns, except in books', she began. 'But… I had the occasion to meet a centaur.'  
'A real one?'  
'Of course a real one! What else if not a real one…?!'  
'Centaurs aren't very sociable.'  
'That's what he told me.'

Eliot opened wide eyes before he exclaimed:

'What he told you?! He even talked to you?'  
'Yes… his name is Drane, he's a young centaur…! He saved me in the Forbidden Forest, last year, as I was chased by a gytrash…'

Surprises followed one another, as the expressions on Eliot's face:

'You were chased by a gytrash?!' he repeated, astounded. 'But… what did you do?! How did you find yourself here…?!'  
'That's a long story', sighed Kate, finally abandoning the conversation.

She didn't feel the need to talk about Morgana and the incident to her cousin. This event was still imprinted in her memory, as the centaur's voice reasoning in her head, calling her "O'Maëva"; this mysterious name which secret wasn't known yet. Then, she resumed her watch with her cousin, who didn't stop to go wonder by wonder, sometimes passing by deep trouble mixed with a slight despair.

'We should keep quiet', she smiled, 'or we might scare this poor Mooncalf, don't you think?'

Eliot nodded. And so they kept watching each and every bush from which could come a Mooncalf, even though Kate hadn't any idea of what this creature looked like. Of course, Eliot showed her a picture he saw in a book, however, drawings were sometimes different from reality…  
Minutes passed by. And tiredness, as well as impatience, started to weigh on their shoulders. They just spent a long week, and thinking about the Monday to come seemed to considerably burden them even more. When, suddenly, a rustling of leaves made them raise their heads.

'Did you hear that?' whispered Kate.  
'It came from over there.'

Then, he turned towards her and pointed out the clearing with his chin.

'You want to go and see?'  
'What?' she squealed, scared. 'Y-you want me to go there?! But what if it's a wolf?! Or… or…'  
'I've got your back', he assured her, showing the wand he was holding in his hand.  
'Why don't _you_ go?! You're braver!'  
'I'm less discreet than you.'  
Both angry and terrorised, Kate went out of the bush shaking, whispering a brief "Coward…!"

Her heart was racing hard as she took care to not make a single twig crack. Staying behind, in the shadows of the thickets, Eliot was watching her. He rose up slowly, his wand pointing in front of him. She had no clue. He had her at his mercy. And he savoured this sweet victory that seemed so sure. A sardonic smile stretched his lips, making his usually listless face looks demonic.

"And you will bring me Kate Whisper…!"

Kate was still carefully walking, stealthily, until she reached the quivering bush. Without noticing that behind her, her own cousin was about to cast a spell on her…  
Then, a soft blue light came from the centre of the little shrub. Kate suddenly stepped back and stumbled before falling on her butt. Eliot himself was so intrigued something activated inside him and made him lose track of the action he was about to do. But the young girl regained confidence and, positioning on all fours, instinctively whispered:

'Don't be afraid… We don't want to harm you…'

She saw two googly eyes among the leaves of the bush. Until a snout came out of it.

'I… I can't believe it!' said Eliot, shaking.

The Mooncalf showed itself timidly, approaching the hand Kate was reaching out, moved by the apparition of the creature. Its skin, next to its protruding bones, was devoid of hair and reflected the full moon's light. It was moving on its frail legs provided with flattened, armed with claws hooves. Its head looked like a Muggle calf, if it wasn't for the protuberant eyes and opalescent nose.  
It nodded as it emitted a high-pitched sound

Her fingers were about to touch the creature when it jumped and went back into the deep forest with a rather disconcerting speed, like a rabbit. Kate remained astounded for a moment before she let out a swear.

'I was so close! Did you see that, Eliot? I was so close!'

Yet, her cousin didn't answer, shivering like a leaf. The young girl rose up and dusted off her legs.

'That was… amazing!' she whispered, slowly getting back on her feet. 'A Mooncalf, a real one! How lucky!'

Eliot seemed to not share her joy. And when she joined him, he grabbed her arm and said with a low voice:

'L-let's get back… Now!'  
'What's wrong?'  
'Don't argue! We have… we have to leave!'

She didn't try to understand his cousin's reaction, thinking his emotions were speaking for him. In fact, she didn't realise that this unexpected encounter just saved her life.

* * *

When Kate got back to her room, the four girls were already asleep under the stars and the full moon's light. After she put off her cape, dirty shoes and put on her night gown, she discreetly crawled under her sheets. But then she noticed that a small package had been hidden under her pillow. Sceptical, she took her wand, took refuge under her cover and whispered:

' _Lumos_.'

A soft spark appeared at the end of her wand, revealing a Sugared Butterfly Wings box, her favourite candies, to which was attached a torn page. The first edition of The Puffskein's Echo. The last page of the article about her. A paragraph was highlighted:

 _"_ _But as you certainly understood in the course of these lines, it is all those little originalities that make Kate an exceptional girl. For some, she's naïve, for us, she has a wonderful look on the world. For some, she's clumsy, for us, she lightens up our days without even wanting it. She's our little butterfly. But above all, she's a quality friend. A girl who deserves to be respected and recognised at her fair value. And yet, it's the pickiest girl of all who says that!  
_ _So the first one who bothers her, journalists included, we'll shove your wand up in your… in your nose, because we risk censorship, says Scarlett!_

 _2M2S,  
_ _Maggie, Moira, Suzanna & Scarlett."_

And Kate fell asleep, tears in her eyes, the crumpled page tightly held against her.


End file.
